Displacement in the Old Republic
by CPunchMaster
Summary: I don't know how, or why, I've been brought into the KotOR Universe. I've been forced into helping Revan, who doesn't know who he is, stop Malak and the Sith. Unlike the crew of the Ebon Hawk, I know what is going to happen. Self-insert. Revan/ Bastila.
1. Chapter 1: Transit

Displacement in the Old Republic, Chapter 1

**Author's Note:****Well, this is my first published work in quite a while, and I can say that I was inspired by Herr Wozzeck, and Inf3ctionz, who wrote **_**Mass Vexations**_** and **_**Masses to Masses**_** in the Mass Effect section of . This is a work that brings me back to one my favourite games, that's become pretty old and forgotten, but oh well.**

**The premise here is that the main character is brought to the Knights of the Old Republic universe before the events of the first game, and a greater purpose awaits him. So it's a self-insert. There's going to be a story arc that covers both games, depending on how far our protagonist makes it, based on choices made by Revan and the Exile. Enough of my author's notes, let's get started?**

**

* * *

**I found myself unable to hold back my sigh as I pull another day off the calendar on my desk, the type where you pull off a day to reveal the next one. The passing of time was a constant reminder that in only three days, I'm going to be leaving everything behind, my parents, brother, and friends, as I head off to college. My high school teachers always described college as "the next step in your future."

Funny how they always forget the part about being clueless in a huge environment, and the rather important part that I'll be thousands of dollars in debt.

A _beep_ brings my attention back to the computer in front of me, a notification on Skype, the instant messenger I installed yesterday, at the urgings of my friends, saying that I needed to keep in contact with them after leaving the state. That is, assuming that I don't drown in waves of homework or workload at the electronics store outside the college. While not the most memorable job ever, at least I was smart enough to deal with people who thought that expensive cables were better at transmitting video. Why would you think that? A cable is a cable.

"_You doing anything tomorrow, Stephen?"_ displays at the bottom of the chat window, bringing a bit of a smirk to my face. The message was from one of my oldest friends, Sarah, whom I had met when I started high school four years ago. Sadly, Sarah was going to a fantastic, expensive school on the East Coast, majoring in pre-law. She had always strived for perfection in her goal to become a lawyer. I, on the other hand, simply walked through high school, getting mediocre grades, more interested in video games or movies. I suppose that's why I'm headed off to film school, one of the only things that interested me, instead of engineering or physics. I hate science and math. Music was okay, I played in the high school band for a few years, but the people in the marching band were so irritating I had to quit. Probably for the better anyway, I prefer playing the piano.

I'm sorry; I've completely lost my train of thought. Oh, right, Skype.

"_I have no idea," _I start to type, thinking quickly before continuing. "_I guess I'll pack up. My mom and I are going to get sheets for the dorm. Hopefully blue, or black. Either colour." _

Oh, dear, shopping with my mother. Where I am quite objective based, on a mission whilst in a store, my mother wanders, looking for anything and everything she could imagine. Sometimes, I wonder if she knows exactly what it is that she's even found. It's like a child in a candy store. I'd be lucky if it took an hour, at least, to find the bed sheets I needed.

"_Color. Not colour." _Skype brings this message to my attention. As typical, Sarah felt the need to correct my "incorrect spelling." Ever since I started texting with her, or sending her a brief email, she's had the need to make fun of it all. It's not really my fault, I spent six years living in Britain. I can't even imagine how many times people have tautened my for saying _aluminium _or _tomato. _Even the English teachers in our school noticed my U.K. spelling, docking a healthy amount of points off every single paper I turned in.

"_Sod off," _is my typical reply, and I send the message through the tubes of the internet. While waiting for a reply, I open the drawer under my computer. Within that part of my desk, I found a number of games for my computer and Xbox. I sift through these titles, looking to find something to play before going to bed.

_Halo 3_, _Mass Effect_, _Star Wars: The Force Unleashed_.

As I mentally read off titles, a feeling of revolt forms itself in my stomach. I've played all of these, maybe a hundred or more times. Well, not really, but I feel like I might die when I play any of these again. After all, my father claimed that video games were why I never finished my homework. Truthfully, homework sucks. Boring. It's a bunch of bullshit.

Hey, _Knights of the Old Republic_. Great game, too bad the backwards compatibility on the 360 is terrible. After all, the game was the reason I started playing BioWare games. Even now, I was still involved with a number of "KotOR" fan groups online. Naturally, the daily discussions involved bashing the upcoming MMO, which "stole" _Knights of the Old Republic 3. _

After picking up the game, and setting it back down on my desk, I find that Sarah never replied to my good natured insult, and in fact had completely signed off the computer. I close my laptop, done with the computer for the day. Sarah was always terrible with technology, especially computers. I smirk, figuring that she probably meant to minimise Skype, and exited instead. While she was my closest friend, she was precisely the type of person that I'd meet at work that would annoy me to no end.

You can't have everything in life.

That was when the lights flashed off, plunging my room into total darkness. I blindly blunder through my room, cursing loudly when my foot crashed into the leg of my desk. Finally, my hands found the light switch, and I flip the switch off, and back on.

Nothing.

I hate the dark, I really do. The dark is basically nature being an ass.

* * *

Wandering through the basement, I hit a number of inanimate objects before the metallic noise of my hand slapping the wall signalled that I had found the fuse box. Then, I realise I had forgotten something important. A flashlight. You know, the thing you need to see in the dark? I estimate I'll last two days at college, acting like this.

Whipping my BlackBerry out of its holster, I shine a healthy amount of white light onto the grey fuse box, revealing over twenty different switches. With just one move, I could disable power to the entire house. Awesome. I figured that it'd be much more fun to do that, instead of trying to find the "Basement bedroom" switch. I hope nobody is on the computer upstairs.

The faint lights in the distant, coming from the upstairs, disappear instantly as I turn the "Master" switch to the off position. As soon as I undo my actions, the basement suddenly became bright, and well-lit, once again. Thank goodness, I was getting tired of running into walls and blubbering about like an idiot. I might not be the smartest, or the most athletic, person that ever walked the face of the Earth, but I try not to look like the stupidest human being.

While I was busy contemplating how I was superior to the average individual, I walked face first into the door of my room.

Okay, I try not to look stupid in front of everyone.

I almost fail to notice that the room is black, even though I restored the lights. I saw the lights turn on! Yet, there is nothing to see, at all.

A chill works its way down my spine, and the door slammed shut behind me. When I try to look behind me, the most powerful torrent of wind I have ever felt slammed into me, knocking me on the ground. The noise is so intense that I could feel my skull being pierced by the sound. The level of agony is simply unbelievable. I've been through surgeries, broken bones, and put a nail right through my foot. Yet none of these compared to the pitch and intensity of the noise. Right when I thought that I was going to fall unconscious, it all ceased.

Realising that my eyes were jammed shut from pain, I carefully opened them, afraid of what I was going to see. A thousand possible images formed in my mind, including a tornado and a terrorist attack on my house. I was not even close. What I saw was impossible. It rejected everything I had ever believed in.

I could tell that the lights above my head were artificial in nature; the low hum that emanated from them was an obvious indicator. I must have been in a small apartment, without any carpet or traditional walls. Normally, I would have been puzzled by the steel building, considering that it looked like something out of _Blade Runner_ or _Star Trek_. Instead, my eyes drifted to the window maybe a meter from where I lay.

Outside was a vast, expanse of skyscrapers, in a fashion that reminded me of New York. Yet, there was a major difference in the design of the buildings: they were all topped with a dome like design. I knew that the massive structures were very, very familiar to me, but I couldn't remember where I had seen this sight before. In the distance, a number of flying vehicles travelled in a strict manner, locked on linear paths. A select few ships, narrow in profile, whizzed about, almost as if they were patrolling over the city.

Footsteps draw my attention, and I quickly stand up, trying not to look too suspicious, lying about on the floor. As soon as I saw who the footsteps belonged to, I knew that I must have been dreaming, or that someone had put some powerful drugs in my soda. Passing in front of me was an alien, or man in a very, very good costume. A Twi'lek. From _Star Wars_.

I'm going to freak out.

I suspect that the alien saw me quickly standing on my feet, wide-eyed and afraid. The Twi'lek gave me an odd look, raising his eyebrows quizzically. Oh, there was no way that this was a costume. This was the real thing.

"Everything all right, human?"

I realise that I'm staring at the alien in front of me, my mouth wide open in awe of what I'm seeing. For a few select moments, I can't even form words in reply. This cannot be happening. How do I understand this Twi'lek? How did I even get here? Where is here?

I glance out the window again, and try to think about what I remember in regards to _Star Wars_. If I'm seeing speeders and a massive city, this could be Coruscant. The planet that Lucas featured in the prequels? It doesn't look exactly like Coruscant, but I guess that if I've been brought to the _Star Wars_ universe, anything is possible.

I then grasp that I haven't replied to the green-skinned Twi'lek. Assuming this isn't a dream, I shouldn't ruin any first impressions.

"Err, yeah, everything is just fine," I stutter, looking again out the window, confused. "Hey, just to check, where exactly am I?"

It sounds like a stupid, idiotic question, but…

The Twi'lek looks _really_ confused with that question, and I can tell he thinks I am completely stupid. Great, since my life was turned upside down, the first person I met thought I was idiotic. I really have a bad feeling about this.

The alien paused before replying, "You're on Taris, human." He points at a kiosk behind him, "I'm Larrim, and I run a shop nearby. Business hasn't been the same since the Sith set up a quarantine here."

Taris?

The Sith?

Quarantine?

Oh, shit.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, a bit short at first, but I promise that the following chapters will be MUCH longer. I also promise that how "I" got to KOTOR will be explained. All your questions will be answered, trust me.**

**Next up: Introduction to Taris and Mission**


	2. Chapter 2: The City

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 2: The City

**Author's Note: Wee, here we go again. I was going to take a bit of a break, but I had a number of ideas, and just like whenever I play KotOR, I find the need to burn through Taris and onto more interesting things. I hate Taris.**

**Err, yeah. Last chapter was a bit short; this one will be closer to the average length. Oh, and also I'll try to make this story readable for anyone that hasn't played the first KotOR game. And about the second game? Maybe… Depends on how far our hero lasts in this universe.**

**Also, I don't own any of the characters from "Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic." LucasArts and BioWare do though. Obsidian owns the K2 characters, of course. **

So, here I am on Taris. The planet from Knights of the Old Republic, that eventually gets destroyed by the Sith. There is no way that what I'm going through can be real. It defies all logic, all notions of sense. If I remember right, the original game started with a Republic warship in the orbit of Taris being destroyed by the Sith. The player, Carth and Bastila all flee down to the planet in escape pods.

The player. Revan, of course. It's almost easy to forget the bombshell that the game dropped on you later on. That your character was a mind-wiped Darth Revan, manipulated by the Jedi to help them defeat Darth Malak, the leader of the Sith. But, if "Revan" is here, that means that he, or she, doesn't know their real identity. Cool, so I already know more than the characters in the game do. Except Bastila, I guess, she knows who Revan is too.

Taris. A planet with a vast and expansive city, but not covering the whole planet, like Coruscant. If I remember right, then humans are incredibly racist on Taris, leaving aliens in the lower levels of the city.

You humans are all racist! At least in_ Mass Effect _there aren't Sith ready to destroy the entire planet on a whim.

Crap, I completely forgot about that little part. Since I've arrived on Taris, I've heard from a number of locals that the Sith have locked all transit to and from the planet, searching for a legendary Jedi who could turn the tide of the war against the Sith in favour of the Republic. Bastila. The grumpy Jedi from KotOR who was able to win battles with the Force. Battle Meditation, I think they called it.

Why am I even thinking about this? I'm sure I'll just wake up, safe in my bed in a couple of hours.

Mulling over my own memories of the classic video game, I wander out of the apartment complex in which I arrived. I cannot help but be amazed and how similar this all is to me. The silver, metallic doors even open in that same, ridiculous manner from the game. Too bad technology on Earth isn't like this, a simple wave of the hand in front of the door and you're all set.

As I walk out of the apartment building, I'm convinced that this isn't a dream anymore; I can't remember a dream this realistic and precise. The Upper City is exactly as it was in the game, a giant metallic platform, interconnecting the massive skyscrapers that made up the city. Humans, droids, and even a few exotic aliens walked about on their daily business, to and from some unknown destinations. But what had caught my attention were the several armed, and armoured soldiers patrolling the city. Dressed in some sort of stormtrooper-knock off outfit, but in a bright, shiny aluminium colour instead of white.

So, these are the Sith, the guys that want to conquer and control the galaxy. At least they have sweet uniforms.

Swinging my head around, looking for anything familiar, my eyes settle on the form of a wrecked escape pod, just outside a large building with the inscription "Cantina." I wonder if I could drink in this universe, surely the Sith aren't going to check my identity and find that I'm only nineteen. Besides, it might be interesting to have some sort of alien alcohol. Assuming that I don't get murdered or poisoned. Negative thoughts, negative thoughts.

I walk towards the ruined escape pod, a crammed ship that couldn't have been more than two meters in length. After all, it's just a way to get out of a ruined ship as fast as possible. I guess comfort wasn't much of a factor in the design of the escape pod. I run my hand along the burned hull, realising that the ship must have heated upon re-entry in Taris' atmosphere. I should have paid more attention in Physics, shouldn't I?

The harsh voice coming from a helmet, filtered and distorted brings me from my thoughts. "Carry on citizen, this area is reserved for official Sith business."

Oh, shit, that's one of the Sith, isn't it? I slowly turn around, and my fears are confirmed. Armoured in silver from head to toe, with a solid gold visor, is a Sith soldier. He's so real, moving ever so slightly when he breathes, his appearance no longer a computer generated model from 2003. This is a real, living Sith soldier in front me now.

"But what would the Sith want with an empty escape pod?" I ask, good natured, and hoping to ensure that my knowledge here isn't wrong. If that's the case, then all the advanced knowledge I have of KotOR is rubbish. Which is possible. I'd assume that if I was somehow transported into this _Star Wars_ universe, anything is possible. Which isn't the most comforting thought ever, is it?

The Sith chaps in KotOR were never known for being friendly or fun to deal with, but I was at least expecting some reply or rude comment about my feigned ignorance. I certainly wasn't expecting a metal covered fist to slam into my stomach, hard enough to knock me onto the metal platform, slamming the wind right out my lungs.

Hey, Sith, that _really_ hurt. This isn't a dream; the pain feels too far too real. Before I can try to stand again, the soldier's foot lashes out against my stomach, and I instinctively curled into a pathetic ball, in an effort to protect myself. I spent years learning martial arts, practicing TaeKwonDo for hours at end. Hell, I even started a volunteer job as an instructor in the Academy, instead of just a student. The day I earned my black belt was one of the proudest moments of my life.

All that training, all that work, and here I am, being beaten by a Sith. From _Star Wars_. Whoever sent me here has a sick, twisted sense of humour.

It all ended, finally, as the Sith regained his composure, drawing himself into what must have been a military-trained attention stance, his back as straight as a board. I looked up into the shiny visor of his helmet, but instead of seeing eyes or a face, I could only see my reflection: a nineteen year old boy, spitting blood onto the floor, eyes almost pleading for the abuse to end. It's an image that I had seen before, when I was younger, in the reflection of another's eyes.

"That'll keep your insolence in check," the Sith says, practically spitting the words through his visor, as if he is talking to a form of scum. "If you get in the way of the Sith again, I'll be sure that you're brought in to our base." If I had a gun, I swear, I'd have to shoot this uptight, self-righteous guy in the face. I can't help but feel so angry, and that feeling of being powerless works its way into my stomach: it's a sickening feeling.

As the clamping of the soldier's boots signalled that I was free, it took me a long time to find the energy to stand up again, eventually having to use the frame of the escape pod to pull myself up. BioWare sure made life in KotOR look easy… Though I guess Taris had humans that hated aliens. I guess I'll be okay in that regard, but I can already tell my scuffle with the Sith has drawn far too many eyes staring awkwardly at me. One woman passes by me, and I think I hear her mutter something about "clothes."

Oh, crap. Out of habit, I pat my pockets down, and it dawns on me that I look really, really out of place. Jeans and a polo doesn't exactly match the robes that seem to be so commonplace. I thought people in my world had a terrible taste in clothes, especially those skinny jeans and hoodies. But this, this is something on an entirely new scale. With the exception of the Sith, in their aluminium armour, everyone seems to have shopped at the same store. Either that, or tan tunics and robes were considered the height of fashion with these Tarisian nobles.

Trying to ignore the feeling of all those eyes staring down my attire, I confidently walk towards the cantina, trying to remember the map that was here, in the flesh, so to speak. I stroll past the Equipment Emporium, seeing one of the Sith soldiers shaking down the owner of the store. It looks like the same man that stopped me near the escape pod, but then again, I can't tell the difference. With identical uniforms, similar height, and that same, gritty and filtered voice, it's difficult to tell.

Speaking of legions of Sith soldiers, there's one outside the club, making sure no "on duty" Sith stroll inside and grab a few drinks. I try to avoid shaking, and carefully unclench my fists, a little surprised that I reacted so strongly. I shouldn't be that surprised, I guess. Wordlessly, I try my best to respectfully nod at his intense gaze, and wave my hand in front of the cantina door, and I can't help but laugh at the manner of these doors.

* * *

Unlike the game, the Upper City's cantina actually has good music, and definitely isn't a two minute repeating, low quality music file. I've taken a seat, trying to stay low key, and at least in a chair, most of my "unusual" clothes weren't being ogled, occasionally with gaping mouths and looks of disbelief. If the Taris Upper City is home to the richest of the rich, I guess I really look out of place.

Even if people who reside here on the upper terraces of the skyscrapers are rich, snobby and selfish, they at least know how to party. There's no way a game seven years old could portray what I had found over the past ten minutes. Frantic, rave dancing set to fast electronic music, laughter and the occasional drunk wandering past on the way to the bar, or out the door. I hope Taris had drunk driving laws. Otherwise, car crashes will be the highlight of the next few days. Or, airpseeder crashes? Whatever.

While I was trying to think clearly, and maybe figure out why or how I've gotten here, one of the aliens, a Twi'lek approaches me, and it dawns on me that she's one of the servers, the tray under her green arm and some drink of sorts in her other hand. Just looking at the glass makes me lick my lips, which seem to have suddenly become as try as sand. Oh, _I hate sand…_

The waitress struggles to speak up over the din of the numerous conversations and the music track, which of course has the unnecessarily loud subwoofers. After cupping my hand to my ear, the sever seemed to get the message and raised her voice, just loud enough for me to hear. Too bad I don't have any money, at least, not that anyone would accept here. I guess I could try and sell my phone, but who would want a BlackBerry when there's all this fantastic technology?

"Hey sweetie," the Twi'lek says, her voice friendly and kind, a welcome sound after the icy dialogue of the Sith soldiers. At least someone here isn't trying to beat me senseless…

I wave her off, though, and casually reply "Hey, thanks, but…" Geez, I hope she doesn't through me out for loitering or something. "I'm waiting for someone," motioning somewhere behind me, trying to stay calm and collected to hide my lie. I'm a terrible liar. I'm going to get thrown out, probably by the Sith. I haven't even been here for two hours and I'm absolutely positive than I'm going to be killed. Paranoia, right?

Much to my own surprise though, the waitress laughs, and hands the drink her hand to me, the shot glass clinking against the metal table. Why is everything on Taris made of some metal? It sure doesn't help when the Sith decide it's a better idea to lay waste to the planet. I need to get out of here before then.

"Actually, human," the server points her now-free hand to one of the patrons at the bar, "this is a gift from that young lady over there."

Watching the alien woman walk away to tend to another of the cantina's customers, I shot a glance at the bar, specifically the woman in question. Human, a good thing too, some of these aliens are really starting to freak me out. I mean, aliens sure are a common-place in _Star Wars_, but the shock of arriving here is already getting to me. The woman who bought me the drink was attractive, but there was something about her that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Despite my apprehensions about her, I figured that here I was, a teen drawn into a new, dangerous and mysterious world. Sure, I knew what was going to happen, but I don't have a blaster, one of those ridiculous vibroswords, or any practical combat training. Without some help, or money, there was no way I could find Revan- and get off this planet before Darth Malak orders his ships to fire on the city. It's a shame I couldn't find my own way off Taris, but Revan and his team were the only ones that escape Taris.

I pull a lopsided smile across my features, getting out my chair and walking to the bar. The woman stares me down, raising one of her eyebrows after pulling the "elevator eyes." I'm not sure I like where this is headed…

"Hey there, I haven't seen you around before. I'm Sarna…" she lets the sentence hang off, and gestures to the barstool next to her. I take a seat, turning to face her, taking a sip of liquor. Ugh, that's disgusting.

"Of course they don't give us Sith officers from the military base much time off," she finishes, eying my reaction as I try not to sit the drink back into the glass. "That's Tarisian ale, strongest drink the sector."

"Yeah, it sure is… something," I mutter, and I let the glass rest on the bar top before continuing nervously. "You're one of the Sith?"

I can't help but notice how she pulls the long waves of her red hair down around her neck, toying with the ends with her fingertips. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's coming on to me.

"I'm actually a little surprised you're talking to me at all," she says, regret and sadness seeping into her voice, "most of the people here on Taris can't stand us Sith. It can make this job pretty lonely."

I know the feeling; I once worked in a call centre for a few weeks. I can't remember anyone that was pleased to speak with me. Then again, I wasn't beating helpless people or destroying entire planets.

"You know," I reply, choosing my words carefully, "we're both strangers here on Taris. Sure, I'm stuck here, but we have to make the best of it, right?"

She smiles at that, thank goodness. The last thing I need is yet another Sith that's upset with me. She signals to the bartender to refill both our drinks, though I'm going try and stay clear of the alcohol. I'd rather be sick.

Sarna looks around the bar, probably in case there are other Sith officers nearby. I'm guessing that they probably don't like their people fraternising with the "locales."

"Exactly! It's all about attitude. I didn't ask to be assigned to this backwater planet, but I try to make the best of it!" She takes another drink, and shakes her head before continuing, "it's such a shame the locales seem to hate us Sith. Did you hear that one of our patrols was killed here, in the Upper City? Their uniforms were stolen, just to top it off."

Stolen uniforms? In the game, Revan had to steal a set of Sith uniforms, in order to gain access to the lower levels of Taris, the unkempt, dirty section of the city. The Sith may rule the Upper City, but gangs and other criminal groups, like the Exchange, were the ones with power down there. If Revan has already headed down to the Lower City, I'm running out of time. I need to find him, or her, and try and join up.

"You don't say," I mumble. "Everyone here seems to be mad at everyone else. It's pretty extreme when a bunch of snobby nobles in robes are looking down on you based on your … antique clothing."

"Well, those certainly aren't eye candy, you know," she teases, winking briefly before taking another drink. She's going to be drunk if she keeps the pace up. I figure she's probably already had several shots, probably the reason she's aiming her sights on me in the first place.

"Ha ha, thanks," I scowl, nervously toying with the collar of my blue polo,

"Listen, I've got to head back to the base, but I would _really_ like to see you again. Some of the junior officers are having a party in one of the apartment complexes tonight; I'd like to see you there."

A Sith party? If this world is just like it is in the game, then the Sith have restricted access to the Lower City, since they are searching for the downed Republic escape pods from the space battle overhead. Bastila, the young Jedi that can change the tide of war, is somewhere down there, about to end up in the clutches of the Black Vulkar gang. Revan, and Carth, must be looking for her too.

"Yeah, that sounds fantastic, Sarna. I'll be there," I say, realising the glorious opportunity that has been given to me. "I can't wait."

The Sith officer finishes her ale, before standing up. Trying my best to remain on her good side, I follow her on the way out of the cantina, listening to her issue farewells.

"Looking forward to it," she smirks, and then it becomes obvious that something dawned on her, since she pulled her features into a face of confusion. "I didn't catch your name, did you-?"

I interrupt her, "It's Stephen. Stephen *****."

* * *

It really is a shame that I wasn't wearing a suite when I was mysteriously transported here. I always enjoyed overdressing at parties, being the cleanest one there. I even had a _Men In Black_ style suit just for those occasions, complete with sunglasses. Here, everyone has that same boring trend with their clothing. I suppose I do look just as different, but sooner or later, I'm going to need some amour. And a blaster, please.

So, the plan to find Revan and the other party members from the game is relatively simple. But pulling it off without being shot by the Sith or gangs will be the tricky part. Since I walked into the Upper City Cantina, I managed to gain the attention of a slightly drunk Sith officer who invited me to a party. Once the party starts, I could get Sarna drunk enough to "borrow" her Sith credentials, maybe a blaster if she has one, and head into the dangerous Lower City.

On my way to the party, once again ignoring the stares generated by my clothing, which is already worn and tearing from my clash with the Sith soldier outside the escape pod. After the cantina, I had taken a trip into the restroom to ensure I wasn't horribly injured after that event. Again, I don't have the money to pay for a medpac, so I don't have access to that magical substance that manages to heal everything with a simple needle injection.

Without any other leads to get out of the Upper City, I had been patiently waiting for nightfall, when Sarna's party started. By the time the sun set across the city surface, I had been away from home for maybe four hours.

As I headed for the apartment complex, I couldn't believe how it felt as if I had been here for much longer: back home, on Earth, it all felt so far away. I had never been that close to my family, but now I was facing the possibility that I would never see any of them again. And Sarah, I never even said goodbye to her before we had to part ways, maybe for good. Sure, I had other friends back home, but none were that close, and I never would see them again if I couldn't find a way to Earth.

I guess when I join up with Revan, maybe I go about my own path on Dantooine. Assuming I don't get killed along the way. Mum did always say I was cynical and slightly paranoid. Yeah, forgive me mother, this whole planet is going to be wiped out, and I'm on it right now. So, yeah, I'm freaking out a bit.

"Hey, there you are Stephen!" Sarna cries over the music, beckoning me into the private apartment, occupied by a dozen or so individuals, all of whom must have been off duty Sith officers. "I was worried that you weren't coming!"

Yeah, I did think about it, but I wasn't about to tell that to Sarna. Instead, I was going to have to toy with her, otherwise I would be missing that very important Sith pass. "I wouldn't miss this for my life," I tell her, only I knew the irony of that. Go figure that I can't even tell a joke that anyone here would get. I'd be so lost without my advanced knowledge…

"Glad to hear it. I don't have duty tomorrow, so we can live up a little." Sarna is just as drunk as when I met here in the Upper City Cantina, maybe even more so now, I noticed her voice was ever so slurred as she asks me a dreaded question, "You wanna dance before we're both _completely_ wasted?"

Are you kidding? This might be drawing the line at what I can take. I don't even know how to dance, and I never really wanted to learn. All those school-sponsored dances at high school sort of burned any inkling of that straight out of me. Goodness, I'm starting to sound like an-antisocial kid who hates everything. I was hoping to avoid any dancing and skip to the part with a very drunk Sith.

While I think about this, I hear one of the Sith loudly exclaim to another, "You have to try this Tarisian ale – it's bloody fantastic! We ought to have conquered this world years ago."

Remembering that my only hope of getting of Taris involved dealing with this Sith woman, I gritted my teeth and nod, taking Sarna's hand in my own and following her to the makeshift dance floor the Sith have set up- nothing more than a four by four meter mat. From what I remember back home, the bloke normally leads the woman in the art of the dance, but Sarna seems to blatantly disregard this rule. Perhaps in this universe drunk Sith women are supposed to lead the way?

I hate dancing.

* * *

After an incredibly awkward and silent dance, I was finally able to bring Sarna back to where the Sith were keeping their stash of drinks. After hours of pretending to be interested in the young Sith officer, she had finally had enough Tarisian ale. All of the Sith had. My hard work had paid off, three of the Sith had gotten bored and went somewhere, back to their base I presume. The rest were passed out, enjoying their rare nights out. I almost feel bad for using Sarna for her Sith ID card, but I have to remind myself that while each individual may not hold the same evil as Malak, together the Sith will stop the galaxy if left unchecked.

Finding Sarna among the other Sith officers, I discreetly check her pockets, eventually finding a Sith-issued identification card, official papers that allow one to enter the Lower City, and the deadly Undercity, and a stack of credits. I can't help but smirk as I quickly count the money, almost a thousand if I understand the numbering system well enough.

What a great way to start off my career here in this real-life version of KotOR: stealing. Though, in the game you can pick a ton of loot off of the dead or incapacitated. It's a necessary evil here, just to get started. Speaking of evil, a thought worked its way into my head: will Revan be light or dark? In the dark side ending of the game, he murders half his party. Or her party. I definitely should try to leave on my own way once we escape Taris. As much fun as KotOR was, constantly battling Sith, Tusken Raiders and other things of the sort in real life might not be as much fun.

While I could head to the Sith-guarded elevator right now, I ought to spend some of those credits: gangs are all over the Lower City, and one group, the Black Vulkars attack almost anyone on sight. Sure made for some annoying battles in the game. I backtrack my steps towards the Upper City Cantina, vaguely remembering the game's maps from the last time I played. Shame my beloved phone doesn't have an internet connection here on Taris. Having a map for everywhere I go would be _really_ useful.

This time, the Equipment Emporium is only occupied by its owner, a human woman, and a set of droids, some of which were active and assisting about the shop. As soon as I carefully walk through the doorway, eying the different armours and weapons on display, I catch the attention of the sole employee here, who seems eager to please me.

"Hello there. I don't think I've seen you in my shop before," she quickly greets me, "I'm Kebla Yurt, and this is my Equipment Emporium." Kebla gestures at some of the droids behind her, "You looking for supplies or droids? The Sith took my assault droids, but other than that, I've got the finest selection on all of Upper Taris."

Also the most expensive on the planet, too, if memory serves correctly. But without even the most basic supplies, I won't be able to see another merchant in the Lower City. Ah well.

"I'm looking for a set of armour, and a blaster. I'm headed down to Lower City, so…" I trail off, making my meaning clear: I'm not simply some tourist who wants to shoot a wild animal on the weekends.

Kebla raises an eyebrow, and instantly I can figure out her what her suspicions are. Only Sith-authorised personnel have been allowed in Lower Taris after the quarantine. Nonetheless, she brings forward a set of medium armour, which covers the chest and back- complete with a jumpsuit that should disperse light blaster fire on other parts of the body.

I can't help but eye the high quality workmanship, especially noticeable in the shiny, silver armour plating. I whistle in admiration, before picking up the military grade armour. Damn, heavier than hell. I always avoided gym classes in high school, now it's going to come back and haunt me. I've got a bad feeling about the price, but I ask anyway, "How much?"

"A thousand even for the armour, and your normal blaster pistol. The price is final, this isn't a swap meet, you know," she sounds almost angry at the notion that I might try and bargain with her.

Sadly, I hand over almost the entire stack of credits, feeling poor once more as Kebla counts the currency, and once satisfied, hands my new armour over, complete with a small, fold-out sidearm. Sweet, I'm on my first step to making it into Revan's team.

"If you're headed into the Lower City, though, watch out," the store owner warns me, her voice changing from sales-woman to that of a concerned friend. "A few escape pods crashed into the Undercity, so there's a lot of traffic going through the Lower City. The Sith, gangs, even Davik's men are headed down there."

Davik? Oh, yeah. The crime boss that originally owns the _Ebon Hawk_. I see Kebla give me an odd look, then I realise that I had almost no reaction to anything she just said. Mostly because I've heard it all before. I guess I'll have to play dumb. Great. I try my best to put a look of confusion over my features, and quickly ask "Davik? Isn't he part of the Exchange?"

Whatever surprise I may have faked was soon mirrored by actual surprised from the store owner. "Well, he's a _legitimate_ businessman if you catch my drift. Smuggling, slavery, extortion…" She looks thoughtfully before adding on, "it's possible he's part of the Exchange, but nobody knows unless they're working for Davik."

Fantastic, I might have just come close to blowing my cover. I need to be more careful in the future, otherwise I might ruin everything. There's no telling what will happen if I change the events of KotOR, for better or worse. I sure do need some answers around here.

Now that I've gotten what I needed, I give a quick, courteous nod to Kebla and head out of the shop, items in hand, headed for the elevator to the Lower City. I make a beeline for a public bathroom on the way there, determined to change into my new clothes. To hell with the raggedy, as the Doctor would say.

* * *

Confident in my own abilities, as well as my new appearance, I strut with pride to the elevator, though my self-esteem quickly fades when just as many people stare in my general direction. Now, though, the Sith have taken notice of me, probably since I'm armed. Good thing they don't know I've actually never fired the damn thing once. I'll probably break my wrist trying. BioWare sure makes it look easy; just add a feat and _bam_, all done.

Almost to the Sith guard standing ever alert at his post, I walk past a mother and her daughter, a girl not more than six years old. The sight saddens me, a constant reminder that everyone here on Taris, despite the racism and bigotry of the nobles living in the Upper City, are going to be obliterated by the Sith.

"Mommy," I hear the child ask, tugging at the sleeve of her mother's robe, "why is that man wearing such an ugly costume?"

Ouch, kid. With just that, whatever pride I had in my armour instantly evaporated. All from a child's mouth, right? I mean, my old phone is still clipped on my belt, but I thought I looked kind of cool. Armour is cool, kid. Get in the game.

Trying to ignore the child, I approach the Sith guard, staring into his opaque, gold visor. I attempt to ignore the slick blaster rifle in his hands, and quickly produce Sarna's identification card. I'm not really sure how I'm going to pass off as a red-headed lady, maybe this wasn't the best plan of all time.

"Citizen," the soldier warns, before I hand over the card, "only those with proper authorisation can enter the Lower City." He seems to double take, or at least, I think he does, it's difficult to tell in that armour, after reading the stolen ID. He punches a few numbers into a computer, and the door opens behind him. "The Lieutenant sponsored you to head down there? Be careful, those swoop gangs will take a shot at anyone, especially a fool dressed in that ridiculous armour."

Fuck you.

* * *

Where the Upper City resembles a clean, sterile environment, the height of luxury on Taris, the Lower City was something of a disaster. The lights weren't even kept running, flickering off and on erratically, and even shooting sprays of sparks out on occasion. People back on Earth complain about the gap between the rich and the poor, they've never been to Taris. Looks like I'm the first.

I head out of the elevator, spending a few seconds to take in the radical difference here, before carefully walking through the city, which reminded my more of a series of dark, damp and smelly alleyways than anything else. I nearly jumped a foot at hearing the sound of distant blaster fire, and I try to slickly pull my new weapon from its holster. After a few seconds, it finally comes loose. Rather than try that stunt again in the middle of a fight, I keep the gun in my hand, at least it looks intimidating.

Continuing through the Lower City, I notice someone coming out of what must be the Lower City's club, Javyaar's Cantina. What is it with cantinas in _Star Wars_? At first, I'm taken aback by how short the man is, then I figure out who this phantom, mysterious midget is. The feared Bounty Hunter Calo Nord. The Boba Fett of his time. Except imagine Boba Feet as a really short guy with goggles. Revan will kill his ass later, but for now, I ought to stay out his way. He, unlike me, knows how to shoot a blaster.

Remembering that Black Vulkar gang members try and attack Mission while in Javyaar's, I keep moving on, looking for the tell-tale human sentry that guards the Hidden Bek base. Where the Black Vulkars just want to exterminate everyone and rule Lower Taris, the Beks are the good guys, more like a social club then a deadly gang. Their leader, blind Gadon Thek, helps Revan find Bastila. The absolute best of luck would say that I'd run into Carth and Revan in the Bek base, but at least I can find out if Gadon has already met them or not. As good as any place to start.

A sharp, thickly accented voice brings me out of my thoughts, also signalling that I've found the right place. "Hey! Step away from here, this is the Bek base." Armed and armoured, the Hidden Bek sentry draws a vibrosword, not exactly the most friendly of appearances.

I put the blaster in my hand back in the holster, without too much difficulty, and throw my hands into the air, mocking a form of surrender. I try my best to sound convincing and say, "I'm no Vulkar spy, I need to speak with… your leader." I almost say Gadon Thek, nearly biting my tongue in an effort to come across as some off-worlder trapped on Taris, instead of a teen from another dimension who has already seen these events play through.

The Hidden Bek member scoffs, looking down at her weapon before addressing me once again, "Gadon is a hero of the common folk, but with the Black Vulkars on the rampage and the Sith trying to crush the gangs, it's too dangerous to let anyone in."

Yeah, I can't say I blame you dear, but I'd sound pretty stupid if I admitted that all I could do was try to look menacing and shove a blaster near Gadon, before that Twi'lek bodyguard shot me into a million pieces. For probably the thousandth time today, I pull another lie through my teeth, trying not to look at the floor as I come up with a suitable answer, "You know, maybe I could be an ally against the Sith. I'm no spy, I assure you of that."

Come on, you have to buy that. It's mostly sincere. Too bad I can't level up my persuasion skill.

The sentry looks thoughtful before finally nodding her head in agreement. She moves to the side of the door, staring me down. "We do need all the help we get. Go inside and speak to Gadon, but just remember that Zaerdra will fry you if you make a move against Gadon."

Jesus, I'm starting to think I was better off in Upper Taris with the ominous golden glares of the Sith troopers. My first persuade came across as a success though, always a plus. Although I thought, from the game, that the Beks were the ones that _didn't_ want to kill you on the spot. Today sure seems to be full of surprises. I walk into the Hidden Bek base, keeping my firearm secure. I'd hate to be killed by the "good guys."

There's Gadon all right, on the other side of the massive room. It's so crazy; these guys look just as they did in the game, down to their armour and weapons. I can't help but notice with the leader of the Beks. Bald, black and even from a distance I can see his cybernetic eyes, almost glowing white. It's a bit unnerving honestly.

Gadon, of course, isn't all alone in the open, as I expected, his fiercely loyal bodyguard Zaerdra, another Twi'lek is only a meter away, a pair of blasters drawn. For what must be the thousandth time since I arrived, I can feel all the eyes in the room settle on me. I try to look casual, but those butterflies in my stomach make me want to puke. I open my mouth to talk to Gadon, but Zaerdra interrupts me quickly, pointing one of her weapons right at me. Oh, crap.

She's a skilled soldier, I can tell that much, she keeps the blaster trained on my heart as she narrows her eyes and speaks in a raspy voice, "Hold it right there. Who are you and what is your business with-"

Hearing that Twi'lek brat interrupted by her own boss must have been one of the most satisfying sounds I've heard since I've arrived. He dismisses her, telling "Calm down. We can't shoot everyone on sight, Zaerdra, we aren't the Vulkars. I won't let that come to pass." Oh, the satisfaction. If only I could find some way to gloat about it. "I'm sorry," he says, talking to me this time, "You'll have to forgive her, she's been a little too over-zealous in her duties since this war with the Vulkars began."

I shoot a glance at the sulking alien, giving her a daring wink, and quickly turn back to Gadon. "It's not a problem," I say, mustering up the most sturdy voice I could manage, despite the fact I was still a bit shaken from having a gun pointed at me. "With the Sith around here… You can't be too careful, I guess."

"At least the Sith don't give the Lower City much attention," Gadon says, staring at me with his cyborg eyes. "We pick a few of their squadrons off every once a while, but recently the Sit have been storming the Undercity in much larger numbers."

Of course, they're looking for Bastila and the other escape pods. I guess I'll get right to the point. "Look, Gadon, I was wondering if you had any information about the crashed escape pods."

Zaerdra and Gadon glance at one another before both return their attention to me. Did I say the wrong thing? The Twi'lek is first to respond, quickly forming an accusation, of course. She checks her weapons before saying, "He might be a spy, Gadon, he might be working for the Sith, and that information we just got is a set-up!"

Gadon shakes his head, looking amazed by his associate's suggestion. His hands reach to the desk in front on him, feeling something on its surface. "No, this off-worlder has his own agenda. If the Sith thought you or I knew anything of value, they'd have a battalion of troops right here, right now. Besides, I thought you would want to stay away from the Sith, given…"

"What? What do you know?" I ask, confused. This was certainly not in the game, which worries me deeply. I look at both Bek members in turn, who look hesitant to answer. Surely they can't be talking about my scuffle with the Sith soldier, that was a minor incident.

Gadon speaks up first, speaking much more quietly, "The Sith have issued a warrant for your arrest. They claim you stole a Sith officer's identity, which must be the only way you arrived from the Upper City. If you're caught with that information again, the Sith will arrest you, and likely execute you for treason against their Empire."

This news is terrible. I tried to find a way to locate Revan and leave Taris, and I've gone and messed things up even worse for myself. Now, the Sith are keeping an active eye out for me?

"Can you help me, Gadon?" I ask, my eyes averting his unwavering gaze, and falling to the floor in front of me, almost ashamed of my own actions.

The older man seems to think for a moment before giving me an answer. "I might be able to help you with this, but you have to do something for me." He places one hand on his own chin, thoughtfully. "I just met a pair of Republic soldiers who are heading into the Vulkar base – to steal back a prototype swoop accelerator."

Right, that must be Revan and Carth. So they're a bit ahead of me at the moment.

"I can get you some _actual_ forged Sith papers that can get you anywhere on Taris without drawing the Sith all around you. But in exchange for the papers, I need you to find those two Republic soldiers. They're headed to the Undercity to find Mission Vao."

Trying my best to keep my cover, I innocently ask the obvious question, "Mission who?"

Zaerdra looks slightly annoyed by the question, and finally lowers her weapon, but leaves it in her hand. She says "Mission's just a kid, like you, but she knows the Lower City better than anyone else. She's the only way to get into the Black Vulkar Base."

Right, right, I've heard all this before. But Mission joins Revan and Carth, and the whole group breaks in and steals the prototype swoop accelerator for the big race. Does Gadon want me to join them? "What do you need me to do?" I ask Gadon.

"Mission's one of us, but Mission and her Wookiee friend Zaalbar have been missing in the Undercity. Even if those Republic lackeys fail in their mission," Gadon pauses, and I have a damn good guess what my new job is. "You're going to make sure Mission and Zaalbar return with the prototype accelerator."

Goodness, the game sure makes Gadon look like a noble man, but he certainly knows how to cover all of his bases. Normally, I would have scoffed, being sent as an extra on a mission he already gave out to Revan, but this was just the break I was looking for. Chances were good I could stay away from the Sith, and finally find Revan.

* * *

The Undercity has to be far worse than the Lower City. Naturally, Tarisian nobles sent their criminals into exile _beneath_ the layers of city. Outcasts, monsters and the occasional Sith patrol would await me. I was frequently warned by the Beks that Rakghouls, hideous mutated monsters were abundant in the Lower City. I even heard the horror stories of how a human, or alien, would be bitten by a Rakghoul, and they would slowly mutate into one of the creatures.

Before I left the Hidden Bek base, Zaerdra gave me a few quick tips on how to actually shoot my brand new, unused weapon, she could tell I had never used it before. Thankfully, Gadon was a man of his word, and his papers got me into the restricted Undercity. I'd hate to be arrested and subjected to Sith torture. Sure, Revan goes through that in the game, and that wouldn't be pleasant in the real world. Torture is bad, right?

I walked out of the lift, and was immediately confronted by two small, pathetic beggars. They wore simple black clothes, tattered and obviously hand-me-downs. I can't help but find this ridiculous, I was ridiculed at in the Upper City for my clothes, and people down here live in the lowest level of poverty imaginable.

"It costs twenty credits to use our elevator!" one of the men screams, and I can see the desperation in his eyes. Everything about his posture and stance, it was so similar to the homeless I had seen back on Earth.

Whatever guilt I felt about their situation didn't change my own, though. If I couldn't find Revan soon, I'd have to fight my own way through the Rakghouls, an idea that sounded particularly fatal. I toss my few remaining credits at the two beggars, and casually shove my way past them, walking through the Outcast village. It's a pathetic site, one that the game can't even accurately capture: families huddled around fires for warmth, the looks of mistrust from the exiles, and the smells of rooting food and waste.

I walk to the edge of the village, finding exactly what I remember from the game: a giant gate that protects the town from attacks by the Rakghouls. A single man, easily in his fifties stands near the gate, obviously in charge of opening and closing the massive structure, and thus keeping his fellow villagers safe.

"Hold there, upworlder," the old man calls out to me, "the Rakghouls are beyond this gate, I urge you to stay in the safety of our village."

"I'll be alright," I say, shrugging off his concern. I almost ask for the Outcast to open the gate for me, but … "Have any other 'upworlders' passed through here recently?" I ask, figure that this man must have seen Revan at some point.

"Many of your kind have passed by in the past few days," the gatekeeper tells me, "but only a few minutes ago, two humans headed towards the sewers, looking for the Twi'lek named Mission."

Great, I'm almost there. I signal for him to open the gate, and I venture onto the true surface of Taris. Not the cities above, but the untamed world beneath. I drew my blaster, checking the power cell to ensure that I could fire the weapon if need be. I hear the gate seal behind me, drawing my attention for a brief second. When I look back at the vast open Undercity, something catches my eye. For the first time in this... dimension I set my eyes on one of the Rakghouls. Like everything else down here, the game lacks the realism to portray this world with accuracy. Massive beasts, still resembling the species they must have once been, their bones jutting out of their twisted, grey skin. Just to top the image off, many had blood stained all over their faces.

Nervously, I try to avoid the beasts, but as I draw closer, I see one the Rakghouls collapse from a blaster shot. And another. I break into a full sprint, racing to see if I've finally found them. After a few seconds, the weight of my armour slows me down, and I'm already panting for breath, wiping sweat off my face.

Amongst the horribly mutated creatures were two humans, one of whom I could not for the life of me place, the other absolutely un-mistakable. It was all there, the tattered orange coat, the signature blaster pistols and to top it all off, the completely out of place strands of hair across his forehead- against what must be regulation haircut in the Republic military. This was Carth Onasi, the ever suspicious soldier.

If Carth was one of the two, which means the other… the other man is Revan. Oh, poor Revan. Once the Dark Lord, mind-wiped and forced to be the Jedi Council's puppet. He doesn't even know, some identity thrust upon him by the Jedi. While I knew some things about Carth, the basics of how he would react, Revan was something else. He was always controlled by the player, now he's a living person, with a personality of his own, a fake name too. I eye the soldier up and down, noticing his pulled back, slick black hair, almost like a mullet. Where Carth held a pair of blasters, Revan apparently preferred to get up close and personal, with a vibroblade.

Before I reached the duo, one of the monsters lunged at Revan, knocking him to the ground, it's teeth only inches from the man's face. This is my chance! I aim the blaster as quickly as I can, remembering what I was briefly told. Grasping the weapon tightly, even though I'm shaking like a madman, I pull the trigger, my efforts rewarded by two things. Firstly, the recoil is incredible, the gun nearly bouncing back into my face, making a clashing sound with my armour. Secondly, a dazzling red laser bolt shot forth from the gun, striking the Rakghoul dead-on, killing it almost instantly. Unfortunately, the monster fell right on top of Revan. Oops.

While Revan throws the massive animal off himself, Carth runs towards me. I try not to burst out laughing: he's just like the Carth Onasi KotOR fans have known for years. Even his voice, that distinguished, familiar sound, not only from Carth, but from Kaidan Alenko in_ Mass Effect_. I can't help but wonder if there's another reality where that game is real, as well.

"Those damned beasts are impossible to kill. Thanks for the help…." Carth trails off, putting his weapons away as Revan wipes what's left of the Rakghoul off his own clothing.

Seeing the opening, I give Carth an introduction, "My name's Stephen. I thought you might need a hand." Well, that's mostly true, but I can't give Carth any ammunition. Throughout the whole game, the man was suspicious of Revan, I can't risk Carth uncovering my secret. Until I know what effect I'll have on events, it's too dangerous.

"Well, we certainly needed that," Revan says, walking up to me, taking my free hand and shaking it in a tight embrace. "But, we're headed deeper in the Undercity, you might want to turn around now."

Ah ha! He must be light side, or at least neutral. He isn't trying to kill me or throw me into the Rakghouls for a meat shield, so he isn't dark side, for now. "Actually," I correct him, "Gadon sent me here. He wanted me to aid you in infiltrating the Vulkar Base." I'll forget about the part where I'm supposed to grab the accelerator part in case Revan and Carth fail.

Carth glances at Revan, I can tell he doesn't trust me, "Darius, we need to find Mission, we don't need some stranger tagging along and slowing us down." Way to get off to a great start, man. I tried my best.

Revan, or rather, Darius, shakes his head at Carth, his voice much more cold and commanding, "With all due respect, _sir_, we need all the help we can get. We have enough enemies out there, the Vulkars, the Sith. I'd appreciate someone on our side." Huh, I guess I never realised that Carth was Revan's commanding officer on the _Endar Spire_, the Republic ship they served on, before it was destroyed above Taris. "Welcome aboard Stephen," Darius says to me, giving me an earnest pack on the back, "I'm Rayner. Darius Rayner."

**Author's Note: I actually wrote this about a week or two ago, I've spent forever editing it again and again, and I just wasn't happy with it. I've got plenty of ideas for Stephen and the crew, but I dunno. It's as good as I can get it, and it's time to move on.**

**Now, views are nice. Subscriptions are awesome, but reviews are fantastic!**

**Finally, I generally listen to the same few songs when writing, so most of these characters have "themes" I picked from my music library that I use as inspiration when writing for them. Starting with the next chapter, I'll have a song at the beginning, or maybe the end, that I've picked out from another film/TV/game soundtrack (or KotOR's own soundtrack) that is (in my mind) their musical theme. Including Stephen.**


	3. Chapter 3: There's Always A Bigger Fish

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 3 – There's Always A Bigger Fish

**Author's Note: Stephen's back! I was seriously going to wafit a day or two to start this next one, but I got seven reviews the day I uploaded Chapter 2! I can't say how happy I was when I got those forwarded to my phone. The subscriptions, favourites are also great, too. Reviews, though, are even better! Gets me off my couch and forces me to want to write again. BIG THANKS to Herr Wozzeck, he mentioned this fic in the newest chapter of **_**Mass Vexations 2, **_**got me a ton of traffic. If you haven't read his work, go read it. **

**Anyone who is reading this and an artist, get back to me. I'd love to see a Stephen/ KotOR piece down the road when we get to some more memorable scenes.**

**Finally, last chapter, I promised to share the music I listen to while writing, so I've got "themes" in mind for each main character. What do I listen to? Soundtracks of course. First up, Stephen. **

**BioWare and LucasArts own the KotOR characters and storyline. I just play in the sandbox they gave us a few years back.**

Stephen's Theme – _A Good Striker_, Murray Gold

Wow. So far it's all gone to plan. Through whatever means, here I am, living through the events of KotOR, an incredible feat in its own. For now, I have to put aside my wonders about how I got to this dimension, and worry about getting off Taris. Thanks to my knowledge of playing the game, I know that Darth Malak, the leader of the Sith, is going to grow tire of searching for Bastila on Taris, and blow the planet to hell. Hopefully, I can get off Taris before that happens. With a combination of thievery, and luck, here I am in the Undercity of Taris, having finally met up with Carth Onasi and Darius Rayner, the name that the Jedi Council have given to Revan, the former Sith leader, along with a fake identity. Of course, Darius doesn't know that. Oh, that poor man, he's in for one hell of a surprise. At least that won't be for a while.

Speaking of Darius, it slipped my mind that Darius, or Revan, was an actual person, not just a player controlled mute, selecting large blocks of texts from pre-written responses. Sure, I knew Carth, Mission, Zaalbar, Jolee, Juhani, Canderous, and the droids as well developed non-playable characters, but Darius is entirely new to me. It's almost exciting, despite the ticking time bomb of the Sith fleet over Taris. At least now I've temporarily joined Darius and Carth – the beginnings of the _Ebon Hawk_'s crew, and from there, hopefully we can rescue Bastila Shan and flee Taris.

Damn, this Undercity is a much larger place than the game makes it out to be. Probably thanks to the limitations of KotOR's Odyssey engine, right? Seeing this… wasteland for real, not just pixels and textures, it's almost disturbing. Bodies scattered in the distance, often ripped and horribly mutilated beyond recognition. Plus this place is darker than hell, not helped by the still burning wreckage of the escape pods…

"Well," I mutter, taking another look around the disgusting Undercity, "this certainly isn't my idea of a paradise, you know."

"What? You thought this would be fun, kid?" Carth says next to me, shaking his head a bit. I bet he's seen worse, I mean, how long as he been in the military? Two wars, he must have seen a ton of things beyond what I can wrap my head around. The destruction of his homeworld, and Malachor V. This probably is another day in the office to him.

Yeah, Carth, this part wasn't fun in the game, so no; mutant animals that can rip your arm off and turn you into a Rakghoul aren't that enjoyable either. Damn, Carth. Get in the game.

"Maybe," I say, raising an eyebrow, a trick that took me a while to master, "being a bit of a kill-joy, huh, Carth?"

"No, I just have enough experience to know when to get to work," he replies, staring me down, almost an unspoken challenge between us. I bet that he's suspicious of me… A lot of people don't like Carth, in-universe like HK-47, and fans, because he's so damn annoying with his trust issues. Then again, Carth still has a ton of fan girls that obsess over him and his orange coat.

Surprisingly, I can hear Darius laughing in front of Carth and me, as if he was amused by our conversation. He turns around, glancing between the two of us.

"Admit it, Carth," the Republic soldier chuckles, "you could lighten up a bit. If anything, the Sith are going to pick you out of a crowd in a second."

Ha! I win, Carth. Laugh it up. Though really, I shouldn't be too quick to make enemies amongst this group, even if all Carth does is whine about how nobody trusts him at all. Maybe Darius will get to the bottom of that before the final battle…

"So, out of this little slice of heaven, where are we headed?" I ask, even though I know where we should be going. Still, maybe Darius has a specific plan in mind.

Darius smirks, and says "You know, I would have thought Gadon would have briefed you back at the Hidden Bek base."

"Just that you guys are headed into the Black Vulkar base," I reply, running through the facts in my head, "hopefully with help from someone named 'Mission', all in order to steal a prototype swoop part."

Carth nods and says, "While we're in the Undercity, though, we're looking into the crashed escape pods from the – the space battle overhead."

Aww, Carth, you really don't trust me yet, do you? I already know though. I think if Carth ever found out the truth about me, his trust in people might shatter permanently, forever. Speaking of which, I really need to come up with a backstory, otherwise I'm screwed over.

"He means from the _Endar Spire_," Darius adds, and I can't help but notice the glare he launches at Carth for a split second. "We're looking for a Jedi, Bastila, who was part of our crew, before we got shot down over Taris."

"I thought Gadon said that Bastila was captured by the Vulkars?" I question, trying to get the action moving forward, and out of the Undercity.

"So he says," Carth says, "but there may be other Republic soldiers down here, and I'd rather not leave them down here."

No kidding. Between the gangs, Davik's crime syndicate, Rakghouls, and the few Sith patrols down here, it's practically a death sentence. Especially if you're like Bastila and your lightsaber falls under your seat, making you completely and utterly useless. I may have to give her some grief about that when I finally meet her later. Even if she is a bit of a prude.

I pull my simple, hold-out blaster of its case, and frown. "Let's hope we can find that Mission out here, and get into the Black Vulkar base. Otherwise, we might all be mutated monsters that end up being target practice for the Sith…"

"You always talk this much?" Carth asks, and his voice is scornful and filled with irritation.

Oh, damn. A lot of the time, yeah, but I probably shouldn't tell Darius and Carth that. I'm already pissing one of them off. Worst comes to worst, I might be left on Taris. I don't think Darius is evil, despite his lost identity as the Dark Lord. He seems to be a light-side Revan, for the moment. I mean, there's no more hidden ones and zeros that determine who joins the party, who dies and who ends up where. Damn, this is much more complicated than I imagined.

Figuring there's nothing I can say to make Carth happy, I say "Yeah, a lot of the time. You might not like it, but that's who I am, Carth."

I expected Carth to say something about how he doesn't need a nineteen year old piggybacking on his mission, or how he didn't see the need of accepting me. In a bit of a surprise, Carth gives me a bit of a compliment.

"Glad to see I haven't lost my touch," he laughs, "and that you've got a bit of spark in you, kid. Let's hope you just hold that up in a fight."

"Thanks, old guy," I reply, smiling a bit, "let's move on, shall we?"

* * *

It took some wandering, but we eventually did find something in the vast, endless expanse that consisted of Taris' Undercity. We made it through a few scraps with the Rakghouls, but curiously, we hadn't found Mission Vao at all. In the game, she practically jumps on Revan and Carth after they leave the Outcast village. In this altered reality, I'm sure we still need that young girl to get into the Vulkar base, and we'll have to rescue her Wookiee friend Zaalbar first.

"Great," Darius says, looking at the unmistakable, shiny armour of the Sith troopers in the distance. "Looks like we've got some more lively company than the Rakghouls."

Carth, with his military background, adds to Darius' assessment, "Looks like a standard patrol squad. The one in the red is their squadron commander. We might be able to take them out from this distance."

"Wait," I interrupt, not eager to get into a fight with the Sith again, "what makes you think they're going to attack _us?_"

Darius and Carth both turn to look at me; the latter's eyes boring into me, as if I suggested heresy against his religion. To Carth's credit, though, he's been fighting the Sith for years, and he's lost everything to them. I hope he doesn't murder Saul, his former mentor and Sith Admiral, later.

While Carth looks at me oddly, Darius seems to grasp what I'm suggesting, and nods approvingly, "Carth and I have a set of Sith papers from Gadon," he says, "they'll think we're just a government sponsored salvage team."

Yes! Light side points gained, right? Cue that lovely Force theme from John William's score?

"Well, we better keep that cover up, they're headed for us," Carth warns Darius, who turns back to the oncoming figures, still shining in their ridiculous aluminium-coloured armour. Though, if my own adventures in the Upper City were any indication, I was the fool, not the Sith soldiers.

"You there!" cries the lead Sith, whose armour seems to be coated in red, a stark contrast to the silver, run of the mill Sith trooper. Wouldn't that make squad leaders stand out to sniper fire? "Civilians! This is a restricted area, what are you all doing down here?"

A few nervous glances are given between the three of us, and I finally speak up first, "Hey, listen, buddy, we've got all the security papers we need…"

Darius flashes his own papers, the ones that Gadon must have given him, just like in the game. The squad leader's gaze seems to settle on me for too long before he gives a quick look at the security information.

"Oh, so you lot are those trackers the Commander sent down here," he asks through the filter on his helmet. I nod, playing along, and he continues, "They should have given you an armed escort; most of the trackers are better equipped."

"So," Darius asks carefully, his full attention on the soldier, "they sent you down here for those Republic escape pods, right? I would have thought those damn gangs had already scavenged everything."

Well, I guess Revan, or Darius, is pretty good at the whole undercover act. He'll have to be pretty good at that later, when he's on Korriban- you know, where the Sith train their Dark Jedi; it's something like their capital. The game doesn't really say one way or the other. Darius and the crew will have to head there at some point, though.

If the Sith commander have their doubts that we aren't here for "tracking," he doesn't seem to make any indication of it. I can't help but wonder if those security papers Darius has got say he's working for one of the higher up Sith officers. Say what you will about the Sith, they sure know how to keep their underlings in line.

"No kidding," the Sith captain says, "those damned looters have even taken a shot at us. I'm telling you, we should just stay in the Upper City where we have absolute control. Even the local crime rings are down here, looking for those escape pods."

Oh, the Sith in the Upper City. So confident in themselves, and their ability to rule through fear. It's disgusting, the way the people up there swerve around the average Sith soldier, how the Sith take what they want from shops, bars, and even people. Back on Earth, a group like this would be condemned for their actions.

"Something wrong with your men?" the man asks Darius, and with surprise, I find that he's gesturing to me. Oh, crap. I realise that I've clenched my fists, drawn myself into a stance, ready to spring into action if need be, though I'd probably end up on my ass.

Thankfully, Darius seems to cover for me, and says "Don't worry about him; we've just been down here for far too long."

No kidding, mate. The sooner we find Mission and head into the sewers, the better. Wait… Did I just find the sewers more appealing than this place? I mean, the game doesn't give you a smell of the sewers… on second thought, maybe no to the sewers.

As I expect, the Sith commander replies "Right," and turns to his men, calling them back to their own mission. "Come along men, the sooner we get out of this mutant-infested hole, the better."

Watching them leave, I turn to Carth, planning to make a small joke. "Why can't our leader have that attitude?" I ask, nearly laughing as I see Darius' scowl. "I mean, we've gone around in circles!"

"You have no idea," Carth replies, a brief snicker splitting his sentence in two, "it took us forever to get all the way down here. Slow and steady must win the race with him."

Darius doesn't look pleased at all, maybe he's just not used to good natured teasing with his squad members. Maybe it'll do some good to have a bit of humour along the way.

"All right you two, cut the chatter!" he barks, and starts marching towards the tangled mess of pipes and tunnels in the far off distance. That must be one of the entrances to the sewers. If we're at the bottom of a massive, skyscraper filled city, then… Well, even in the game, the sewer was absolutely massive. Nothing like that existed on Earth. But then again, a lot of this: Sith, escape pods, blasters, none of that was found at home. Just a three dimensional representation created by a collection of staff at BioWare.

Home. Just thinking about it makes me audibly sigh. Sure, it wasn't the best place in the world, and I was always anxious to leave home someday. With my friends leaving, going their own ways, and my family falling apart, I tried to hold onto the few people I had left. And now, with the stroke of some imaginary wand, I had lost them all. If George's opening text "A long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away…" was to be believed here, then I won't ever see them again, will I? It's like that episode of Doctor Who, when the Weeping Angels send you back in time, and you die before you were originally born.

"Something on your mind, kid?" Carth asks, concern working its way across his features, not too different from his in-game model. Much more talkative without pre-recorded lines, though.

"I'm sorry?" I say, hoping that I hadn't looked like an idiot, moping about and crying while Carth and Darius moved on with their mission.

"You blanked out there," he explains, and he seems much less accusing than before, "kept on walking, but… I've seen that look before, too many times. Mostly in the eyes of a soldier who has been from home far too long."

Good guess, Carth. My father was military; I know what that's like. But there's that driving force, seeing your family once more when your tour is over with. Looking forward to the joy that comes upon reuniting with your loved ones the instant you get back. Right now, there's no way back yet. I could very well be stuck here for the rest of my life, trapped in some sick visualisation of a video game. I've got to keep my hopes up though; there must be some way out of here.

"Yeah," I say, trying to improvise on the spot, "just thinking about home, you know? It seems so far away, lost almost."

A dark look comes over Carth, and I may have made a slight mistake. Nonetheless, he tries to lighten up, and replies "I take it you aren't from Taris, are you? You've got a bit of a Coruscanti accent."

I shake my head, "Not at all. A place like here, sure, but this is not somewhere I'd want to be. You could say I'm from Coruscant, I guess."

Total lies. I'm just going to roll with his guess. Carth is from Telos, a planet burned to waste by the Sith at the start of this whole war, so he shouldn't know much about Coruscant. Or at least, I pray that he doesn't ask me any specific questions. I really only know what was in those crummy prequels Lucas put out. Did they even name parts of the planet? George, you're ruining my cover story!

"Really?" he asks, nodding his head, "I spent a year there before the Mandalorian Wars, sure is one hell of a big place."

"You fought in the Mandalorian Wars?" I ask, trying my best to steer the subject away from the discussion of my fake origins. The sooner we move on, the better.

"Yeah. That was a long time ago, though. Almost four years since that final battle at Malachor V…" he says, seemingly lost his own thoughts, or memories. I can't tell which.

"Four years?" I reply, a bit taken aback by his attitude about the whole thing. "That wasn't that long ago. Even I remember that."

Well, that's just another lie. I know plenty about that final battle of the Mandalorian Wars, when Revan crushed the Mandalorians once and for all, before he and his friend Malak vanished and returned as Sith conquerors. They had disobeyed the Jedi Council; they had gone to war with the Republic armies against the Mandalorians… Look at what happened to them.

Carth sighs, as if a huge burden as been placed on his shoulders. "It's not something I want to talk about, Stephen. I'd like to forget about the war, living through it once was enough."

"Of course," I smile, "and, thanks," I add quickly, as he starts to turn back. "Thanks for the talk. It's just hard…. being so far away from your family and friends."

Shit, that wasn't the right thing to say either. Why do I always do this? Carth lost his wife, and he thinks his son died. Just wait, mate.

"I know," he says, dropping the conversation on a rather dark, ominous note.

* * *

I hate this wandering we've been doing, hanging around the sewers, the stink is starting to get on the side of horrible. I thought my dog back home stank badly when he needed a bath, but no, this is something else. Something that makes me wants to be sick all over the place, even if Darius and Carth think I'm pathetic. I don't think they saw me shoot a blaster that first time, otherwise they already would think that, wouldn't they?

As we're wandering in what must be endless circles, Darius holds his right hand up, fist closed. As a trained soldier, Carth instantly stops, looking for something in the distance. I guess that's the way the military says "stop here" without saying anything. But why bother? It's not like those Rakghouls are going to be listening in on us, they mindlessly charge, driven by the need for blood and flesh. The general tactic with those things is to shoot them, right in the face!

"What's going on?" I ask, looking at both of the Republic soldiers, unfamiliar with their military protocols and signals. I'm not a warrior or a Marine; I'm just a computer geek and an author from another planet, damnit!

"There's a group of humans," Darius explains, pointing at the distance near one of the wrecked escape pods, "Mercs, by the look of them. Can't be the Vulkars or the Beks, they're too well armed, wrong colours, too."

Armed! Shooting mindless Rakghouls from a distance, since they're limited in terms of ranged combat, that's relatively easy, assuming I could actually hit the creature. Mercenaries with guns… I'm going to die! I would have to worry about being bombed to death by the Sith, whoever these blokes are, they're going to do the job right here.

One of these mercs, adorned in a light brown armour, takes the blaster pistol in his hand, wildly switching from aiming at Darius, Carth and I. At least I'm better at hiding my own fear, this guy is physically shaking, a few beads of sweat dripping onto his face. What a mess.

"Don't… Don't move!" he shouts, his voice as unstable as his body, meaning that he sounded a lot less intimidating than he thought he looked. Even I could probably get past this guy. "I'm… I'm not afraid to use this blaster on you guys if I have to!"

I'm having a lot of trouble remembering this part of the game… assuming that this actually was in the game. It's entirely possible that I've never had this happen, or I just can't remember. While I'm desperately trying to keep my edge over everyone else here, the mercenaries' leader confidentially strides out, holding a blaster rifle that has to weigh more than I do. Oh, wait… I recognise him. Armoured boots and a vest adorned with the symbols of the Mandalorians. Canderous Ordo!

The Mandalorian warrior turns to his underling, disgust in his voice as he says, "Settle down, you idiot. We've already lost enough men to those damn mutants, the last thing we need now is a needless firefight."

You know, for a Mandalorian, Canderous is a pretty good guy. Yeah, he's on the dark side of the alignment chart, and he's admitted to killing women and children… Shit, maybe he isn't a good guy at all. He shouldn't be joining the party for a while, but… Who knows anymore? I'm here and messing with the timeline right now.

The Mandalorian looks all three of us up and down, and I think I hear him snort when he sees me. "You look like you're here for those crashed Republic escape pods, aren't you?" Darius nods, letting Canderous continue, "Let me give you some advice. Turn back. Whatever those damned Vulkars didn't strip from them must have been ripped out by the Sith."

Yeah, of course. Bastila is currently a slave, hidden away by Brejik, the leader of the Black Vulkars. And she's the prize for the swoop race, which Darius needs to win.

"So why are you here, then? You aren't with the Vulkars?" Darius asks, while Canderous' rag-tag group of soldiers fall in behind their commander.

"The Vulkars?" Canderous replies, sounding offended at the very thought. Mandalorians do pride themselves on fighting honourable enemies and battles, so being in the employ of a swoop gang would be about the lowest status for a warrior. Too bad most Mandalorians have become simple thugs after the war. "Those pathetic fools actually think being part of their gang makes them special. No, I work for Davik and the Exchange."

Another of the man's lackeys speaks up, not as frightful as the first man we met, but fear was ever present in his voice, calling out to Canderous, "Boss! I think I heard something!"

An instant after the words left his mouth, all of us heard it too, evidenced by the identical glance shot in the direction of the sound of trampling feet, sounding a lot like a charging animal. Oh, shit. Rakghouls.

"Looks like we've got company, boys!" Canderous yells, slamming his fist against his massive weapon, the device humming to life, akin to a beast's yell before charging into battle. Say what you will about Canderous, he sure could fight in the games; let's hope that he holds up here. Being ripped apart or mutated isn't in today's agenda, mates!

As Carth whips his own twin blaster pistols from their holsters, and Darius produces two lethal swords, I nervously grip the handle of my own weapon. This will be my first actual fight, before I just snuck up on one of those things and shot it through the back. The recoil, though, nearly knocked me on my ass. I better hold on tight; otherwise I won't hit anything at all.

I slide the power cell that was securely tucked into my belt into the receptor in the grip of the blaster, feeling the gun actually warm up in my gloved hands. Alright, let's shoot them up!

As expected, Canderous rushes forward, probably in order to get the first shot on the mutants. From where I'm standing, it looks like five of them, at least they aren't in any sort of tactical formation. They're like a pack of animals, more like a creature than whatever species they once were. When they're close enough, the ripping sound coming from Canderous' direction pierces the silence of the Undercity, closely followed by the agonised scream of one of the wounded animals.

Canderous shouts a mighty war cry, one that I can't hear over the racket of all the blasters firing at our collective opponents. I try to avoid firing at the moment; most of my allies have rushed to get a closer target in their sights. Chances are I'd probably shoot them by accident first. With my own luck, I'd kill Revan… I mean Darius. Got to keep that name straight, otherwise… I'd hate to deprive Malak of the joy that comes from telling Darius the truth.

Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I can see that the battle is in full swing, and even worse, Canderous is down to only having one other mercenary at his side, the others having fallen to the beats. Where there was once six of the Exchange agents, only two remain. At least one of them is probably enjoying this. On the better side, there were three Rakghoul corpses littering the ground, and the fourth was soon to join them, Darius' sword stabbed deep into its scarred flesh. That brings the total to four. That's all of them? Shit, no, there were five!

A ferocious howl comes from my right, and I whip my head around to find its source, a sudden surge of fear gripping my mind. Nearly half a meter in front of me, was the last Rakghoul, having slipped past the others. Before I could even think about pulling the trigger of my weapon, the creature leaped on top of me, throwing me onto the ground in a single thrust. I can't help but notice my blaster pistol slide out my hand, uselessly located a few feet away. There's no way I can reach it before my face is ripped open. Fuck!

The Rakghoul shrieks again, the noise strong enough to make my ears bleed, and as it does so, a wave of green spit flies onto my face. Absolutely disgusting, including the smell of rooted flesh, probably from in between the massive teeth of the damned thing, which are the size of my whole hand! I move out of reflex, falling back on instinct trained while I took TaeKwonDo back on Earth. It had been a while since I took a lesson, but a solid punch across the monster's face stopped it just enough to save my life, even though my hand hurts from the impact. Gritting my teeth, I slam my knee into the skin of the Rakghoul, knocking it off my body. While the damned thing recovers from the unexpected attack, I leap for the blaster.

Just as the Rakghoul makes another move towards me, I yank the trigger of the gun, flinching just a bit as I expected the recoil of the gun. Instead, I was treated to the quiet sound of a click. I left the safety on. Son of a bitch! You've got to be kidding me.

I take the pistol in my hand and slam it against the mutant's head, hearing the smack of the gun against the Rakghoul's skull. The creature moans in pain, and whatever human instinct left in its brain caused it to grip its head in pain. Seeing my chance, I throw the safety off hastily, and depress the firing trigger three times. Three blaster bolts later, the beast falls onto the ground, dead.

When I finally look up once more, I find that Canderous, his remaining soldier, Carth and Darius are all staring at me, some looks of amazement, and a few glances towards me as if I am somewhat insane. Doesn't help to be both, right? I either looked like a fool who can't fight, or a bad-ass. I got a feeling that it was more like the first.

"Nice moves," Canderous says, a hint of admiration slipping into his gritty voice, "shouldn't have let that mutant get that close, though, you idiot." The Mandalorian turns to his sole surviving subordinate, "Whatever Davik says... there's nothing else down here. I can't babysit you lot anymore."

As the two marched off towards the elevator back up to the Lower City, Darius opened his hand, giving me a chance to have him lift me off the dirty earth, which was now covered by a sickly green blood of the Rakghoul that nearly maimed me. I take the man's hand, pulling myself back up.

Darius laughs, waving his own hand in front of his face, and says "You, uh, might want to wipe yourself up."

I run my hand along my face, feeling a few things slide off as my hand slides along my features. I look down at my glove covered palms, and nearly get sick at the sight. Maybe I didn't notice in the heat of battle, but the Rakghoul apparently decided it was fun to explode all over my head. After wiping my hand along my silver armour, I spend a few seconds trying to fix the mess in my short, tousled brown hair. At least I keep it as short as possible, military regulation cut, instead of dealing with a mop on my head.

"By the way," Carth adds, "You've got spirit, kid." He's smiling! I think I might have impressed him, just maybe… Wait…

"What's with all the kid stuff, Carth?" I ask, slightly offended. I hate my own age group, and 'kid' sounds so demeaning.

The older man laughs briefly, and replies, "Don't think about it too much. It's just a habit, when dealing with someone half your age."

"Right…" I mutter, unconvinced. I wonder if he's just trying to get under my skin. At least he doesn't call me an idiot, like Canderous. Hopefully when the Mandalorian actually joins the team he and I will be on better terms. Though, my plan is to leave the group on Dantooine, and make my own way in the galaxy. Hopefully, I could try and find a way back to my own time and planet. Or dimension. Maybe I could get some answers, though I doubt the Jedi have a clue what to do…

A nasty thought crawls into my head about the Jedi. They captured and mind wiped Revan, turning him into Darius Rayner, all in order to find out the secret behind the Sith sudden rise to power. What would they do to me if they found out I knew everything that was going to happen in the next few years? Including the fact that the Jedi were going to be wiped out? I'd rather not find out.

* * *

After tangling with the Sith troopers and Davik's men wandering about the Undercity, there wasn't much else to find down here. The three of us even checked one of the escape pods, which was empty, despite the obvious signs of battle nearby. I wasn't trained to read a battlefield, but I could see the impact of blaster bolts all across the clearing, at odd angles and locations. Even more interesting, solid lines were drawn across the grass and soil, probably from Bastila's lightsaber before she was captured.

But, we finally found what we were looking for. More specifically, who we were searching for down in this nauseating wasteland. Speaking of which, the dried guts and blood have stained my armour, and my hair is still soaked in a mess of things that I don't want to know about. Yet, Carth over there still has his supermodel hair. I'm starting to be a bit jealous.

There Mission is, though, standing near the entrance to the massive sewers, pacing back and forth rapidly, thinking aloud and muttering about Wookiees, sewers and slavers. Oh, that's right, her massive friend Zaalbar was captured by the giant pig-people. Which is worse? Axe-wielding pigs or Rakghouls? They're both rubbish, and I'll likely die either way.

Still, I don't know if Carth and Darius have met Mission before, so I ask, "Is that her?" while pointing at the Twi'lek only a few meters away from the three of us. She's a very pretty shade of blue, since I haven't played the game in quite a while, the tone reminds me a lot of that alien in _Mass Effect_. If memory serves, she looks a bit older here, maybe nineteen or twenty instead of whatever it was she was supposed to be in the game.

"Yeah, that's her. We've met before, back in Javyaar's Cantina," Carth says, apparently recognising the young woman from a prior meeting on Taris.

Mission turns around, her twin azure head-tails spinning behind her, much like hair whips behind human women. Aliens… She gazes at me for a few seconds, questioningly, and instantly recognises my two companions.

"You guys again? You've got to help me!" she cries, obviously very desperate for aid, "Nobody is going to help me. Even the other Beks aren't going to help me-."

Darius seems confused, and I don't blame one single bit. Regaining a semblance of composure, he says, "Wait, hold on. What's wrong, Mission?"

The girl seems close to tears, but she manages to answer his question. Wait? Girl? She's my age; I really hope this doesn't prove Carth's 'kid' idea. "Zaalbar's in trouble! If we don't help him out, he's going to be sold into slavery any minute."

"Slow down," Carth says, "Zaalbar? Your Wookiee friend? What's happened to him?"

It's not her fault, but Mission could calm down a bit. It's like walking in on a conversation that's already half-way done.

"Me… Me and Zaalbar…" she starts, recounting a story I've already heard before, "We were hanging down here in the Undercity. Just looking for anything we could find, exploring. We do it all the time, you know?"

Time for me to speak up, I suppose. "I figure with a big ol' Wookiee protecting you, you're okay from any Rakghoul attack."

Carth makes a point of scowling at me, his mouth slightly open, as if he was going to say something had I not spoken up. I probably shouldn't steal his lines in the future. Oops. I've got to keep that knowledge of mine in check.

"This time, though," Mission says, taking a few steps towards our little group, "Gamorrean slave hunters were waiting for us. Z just threw himself at them, and told me to run for it! I ran off; he should have been right behind me. But… he couldn't get away."

Carth spoke up once more, "Do you know where they're keeping him?" he asks.

Mission looks at the sewer entrance briefly before answering, "I think they're here, in the sewers. Those Gamorreans like to hang out down there. Maybe the stink reminds them of home?"

Right, since they're a bunch of pig-nosed stupid things, right? I can't help but laugh, which makes all three people stare at me, a bit dumbfounded at my behaviour. I nervously look at my shoes, figuring that his wasn't the time to be laughing at anything. How embarrassing.

Darius seems to wait a moment or two, probably thinking his options over. A bit like when the player waits to pick a dialogue option. "Listen, Mission," he says, "we need your help to break into the Black Vulkar base. Gadon told us that _you_ could help us with that."

Ouch, Darius. Zaalbar's her only friend, right? I guess part of your "military training" means thinking about the overall mission, but… Come on? Let's be better than that, the big swoop race isn't for another three days. We can spare the time, I bet.

"Listen, if you help me save Zaalbar, I'll get you into the Vulkar Base," Mission offers, practically pleading, "The back entrance is in the sewers, anyway. It's a deal?"

Darius nods, offering his right hand to the young woman, "Sounds like a plan, Mission. Welcome aboard." After shaking her hand, Darius gestures at Carth, "This is Carth Onasi," and then to me, "and our newest local recruit, Stephen ******."

"Pleased to meet you, Mission," I offer, shaking the alien's hand as well, "I'm looking forward to working with you."

Hopefully that didn't sound too lame, right? I've always had trouble not sounding like an idiot at times. Especially with women, probably why I've never had a good, solid relationship. At least I'm not looking for that here, since Mission is just a video game character. I just don't want to come across like a fool; I already managed that with Canderous.

"Local?" she asks curiously, "I haven't seen you around Taris before, and I've been here for years…"

Oh, shit, cover story time. What did I tell Carth exactly? Coruscant? I really should write this down somewhere so I don't have fifty different tales. I'll be found out in a matter of hours.

"No," I say, quickly shaking my head in response, "I just got here from Coruscant, actually. A bit nicer, there aren't any Sith troopers maintaining order."

With Darius and Carth carefully walking towards the sewer entrance, Mission and I start to follow, caught up in our own conversation, while the two Republic soldiers talked about their overall mission of finding Bastila.

Mission seems a little hurt that I insulted Taris, but she is quick to defend it, as well. "Taris is a pretty great place when I was growing up. Someone's always trying to push you around down in the Lower City, but Zaalbar and I managed okay."

I think about asking Mission about Zaalbar and her, but I figure that would be like rubbing salt on an open wound right now, since she's so worried about her faithful friend. As I open my mouth, trying to form a reply, I catch a strong whiff of a nasty scent. That's when I realise that we've walked into the first section of the sewers, the smell is absolutely horrible. I've passed by a septic tank being trained in the summer. Just multiply that by ten thousand times, and you've got the sewage odour.

"This," I spit, "This is the sewer?" It's horrible! I'd rather go back and fight that Rakghoul again, at least that was a one-time explosion of vomit-inducing fluids.

"Yep," Mission confirms my worries, but she doesn't seem too affected by the sight of the sewer or the smell. "It can get pretty nasty down there, sometimes."

"No kidding," I say, looking around me. "You'd think a planet like Taris would be able to develop a better sewage system."

Carth takes this time to add to the conversation, "You know, Stephen, the world down here is invisible to Upper Taris. It's much easier for them to ignore this place entirely."

Ignorance is bliss, they say. If they thought my clothes back from Earth were disgusting, they might simply die from the shock when they see the cesspools down here. The Sith also haven't made an effort, too. They only come down here looking for Bastila. What a wonderful world, this is.

"What's your opinion, Carth?" Mission asks, "You've been all over the galaxy, I bet, right? How's Taris compare to other planets you've visited?"

Wasn't this when they argue? Fuck, let's all get off on a terrible start, won't we?

Carth nearly answers right away, and then he seems to bite his tongue for a moment before replying, "To be honest, Taris rates pretty low, Mission. The prejudices of the rich, who spoil themselves while the poor live in this-" Carth even points at the dripping waste around the walkway for emphasis. "It's not a pretty picture."

"Coruscant isn't much better," I add, even though I have no idea what I'm talking about, "Even at the home of the Senate, children steal food to survive. The Chancellor lives in luxury while there's poverty only kilometres away."

"There's a lot of worlds better than Taris or Coruscant, and a lot that are worse too," Carth quickly adds, "But neither of them are any place for kids to live on their own – even if one of them has got a Wookiee on their side."

Yeah, yeah Carth, enough with the kid stuff already. I'm a bit more good natured than Mission, she hasn't been the victims of your taunts and jokes yet. Doesn't she freak out in the game? I don't know if I could ever get a conversation between the two started.

"Hey! I ain't no kid, Carth! I look out for Zaalbar as much as he looked out for me! I come here and ask you a question and you give me a lecture, geez."

Carth and I might get along well enough so far, but I don't think Carth appreciates Mission's outburst. He looks pretty upset, and says "I sure as hell don't need this. Let's get on with our assignment."

There's a horrible, awkward silence between all of us, before Darius speaks up, "You lot all done? Mission, you've been here before, lead the way."

Mission angrily stomps off, walking next to Darius, giving him a few tips about the sewer level that we were now stuck navigating. In the game, I absolutely hated the map layout here, took me a few hours to actually finally find our future Wookiee companion. In this representation, I can't imagine that we'll be any faster, especially since there's the occasional Rakghoul or Gamorrean attack. Luckily, we've avoided those thus far. If I got into my typical type of fight with either of those every battle, Darius, Carth and Mission are going to be cleaning bits of me up for days.

Carth falls behind Darius and Mission, still a bit cross from his argument with Mission. I fall into step next to him, and all four of us walk through a door before I finally decide to try and mend the relationship between the group.

"Hey, Carth, can I talk to you for a second?" I ask, tapping his armoured shoulder twice to gain his attention. He doesn't say anything, so I just shoot for it. "Listen, chap, I know you're used to working with people like Darius, soldiers, right? Mission and I aren't like that. I can take a joke, but I think you've touched a nerve with her."

"It doesn't matter, we're here to do a job, not mill about," Carth says, and I get the feeling that he's ignoring me a bit, since we're all continuing on our path in the sewers.

Oh, those soldier types. "I know, and I'm here to help, too," I reply, trying to make the seasoned soldier see my way, "But we won't make it into the Vulkar Base if we're all trying to kill each other. I'm not military, I mean, my father was, but I'm not. You and Darius need our help, though, and we should all just get along, right?"

My newfound friend gives me a solid look, before the two of us continue following Darius and Mission through the winding sewer walkways, only feet above festering pits of slime and filth. Those Orcs from _Lord of the Rings _would fit in just fine here, I think.

* * *

We've been in the sewer maze for a bloody hour, and the smell hasn't gotten better at all.

Unlike the game, during which the party was under constant attack, there's almost nothing down here at all. No mutants and no pig people. Worse, no sign of Wookiee Zaalbar anywhere in here. He's got to be in the heart of the Gamorrean camp, but we have yet to find any sign of it. Still.

The tension between our group was still palpable; a total of maybe seven words was shared between all of us in the past hour. Mission must have calmed down by now, but I suspect she's much more concerned with finding her friend than trying to be friends with Carth. She and I were at least on good terms, though.

Finally, the moment I had been waiting for arrived, and Carth broke the silence, addressing Mission, "Hey, Mission… I wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry about what I said to you earlier. I'm just a little on edge lately. Even with four of us, this isn't an easy job, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Mission turns around from walking with Darius, who follows suit, probably in order to ensure another fight doesn't break out. I walk up behind Carth, in an effort to keep a tab on the conversation.

"I know, I didn't mean to get mad with you," she says, sighing after her apology, "I'm just tired of everyone thinking that I'm a helpless little kid all the time, especially since Zaalbar and I travel together."

"Mission, you aren't helpless at all. Look at where we are, look at what all of us are doing. You're not just along for the ride, without you, we couldn't get the accelerator and rescue Bastila. Darius and I need you and Stephen."

Hey, me too? Even though I can't hit a target unless it's on top of me?

"You really mean it?" Mission asks him, sounding a great deal happier already, "Nobody's ever said anything like that to me before, not even Big Z. He might think it, but… he's more of the strong, silent type. Thanks Carth, let's go find Zaalbar."

There's silence once more between us, but it's actually enjoyable this time, instead of veiled anger being hidden behind our wordless trip. We head through a door, finding that the catwalk we were perched on sloped downward at a steep angle, making it easy for one of us to slip and fall. Truly whoever designed this is a complete fool, an imbecile. If BioWare is behind the design of this universe, I'll have to write them a long winded letter about level design.

Disturbingly, there was a severed arm lying near the door at the end of ramp, still clutching a datapad in its hand. Even worse, I couldn't even tell if the arm was human or alien, the blood stained all over it was certainly a gruesome sight.

"Look at that," I say, pointing at the scene in front of us, asking the obvious question aloud, "Rakghoul damage, you think?"

All of us stare at the appendage, unsure of the correct answer. However, Mission seems to find what none of us have, that the metal framework around the door is horribly bent and ruined, by something much larger than a Rakghoul. Even the bold and confident Darius seems disconcerted by the image in front of him. Honestly, I was clueless. Nothing should be in this area of the sewers.

"It can't be," Carth says nervously, putting a hand on one of the mutilated railings, "the Rakghouls aren't that big, and neither are Gamorreans-"

A massive boom, echoing through the metal complex at an almost deafening level, cuts Carth off short. All of us glance around nervously and when yet another loud sound draws our attention, it's obvious that it's coming from behind the door. It honestly sounds a bit like footsteps, or someone dropping a ton or two on the ground in the distance.f

"You're sure that we have to go this way?" Darius asks Mission, turning to look behind us, maybe for an alternate route to where Mission suspected the Gamorrean camp was located.

Mission nods in reply, a bit shaken from the sight we were seeing and the incessant noise. Darius waves his own hand in front of the door, watching the portal unfold from the centre, disappearing from the door frame entirely. I took a peek past the doorframe, and saw a massive, wide open area, with another door on the other side of the room, maybe twenty or more metres away. I hadn't ran in years, twenty metres was a long way for me if I need to sprint.

"Shall we take a look?" Darius asks, gesturing into the room that none of us really wanted to walk into alone. When none of us answer, the man continues anyway, "Let's go then."

Falling in line behind Darius and Mission, but in front of Carth, who has both of his cherished weapons drawn, just in case. Seeing his point, I draw my own weapon, despite the fact the way I use the gun means I might as well just glare at whatever it is we're going to face. It'd be just as damn useful. Mission complained about feeling worthless, but she's a great computer specialist and a master of stealth tactics, not to mention being handy with repairing technology and droids. I'll have to catch up later, make myself useful.

All four of us walked into the room, and Mission and I let out a collective gasp, while my Republic-trained friends were much more collected and reserved about it. Truthfully, they're lucky that I'm not running away. In front of us was a Rancor, at least ten meters tall, a monster that could eat all of us in whole gulp, and it would probably still need more blood to satisfy itself.

This doesn't belong here! The Rancor is supposed to be in front of the Black Vulkar Base entrance, not in the middle of the upper sewer levels. Even better, there's no way to kill this son of a bitch.

The Rancor must have heard us, or seen us, and starts marching straight for us. Neither KotOR nor _Return of the Jedi_, being a digital Rancor and a puppet, respectively, adequately captured the motions of the beast. The way the beast sways as it moves, its massive fingers only a foot off the ground, ready to grab one of us up in a second's notice.

"Your suggestion, Darius?" Carth asks, eying the door that we entered from like it might be his new true love.

The younger of the two men, Darius, stares at the monstrous creation in front of us before giving us an answer. Just one word I was happy to obey: "Run."

Carth, being closet to our exit, was able to get to safety before anyone else, while the Rancor monster was still a relatively safe distance away, even though I could feel the heat of its breath from meters away. I've surely had enough of monster breath, spit and teeth today, and I really didn't ask for this. Why me?

Darius takes one of his two swords, and hurls one at the Rancor with all his might. I watch it whizz through the air, flying towards the creature at a satisfying speed. Almost a triumphant moment, except for the result. The blade struck the mammoth at the right angle, and would have sliced right through anything else. Instead, though, the sword just bounced off the thick hide of the Rancor, striking one of the sewer room's walls, far away from any of us.

Still, the beast seemed aggravated by the display, giving Darius and Mission enough of a chance to follow Carth out of the chamber, back towards the walkways in the sewers. I follow suit as a powerful yell comes from the mouth of the Rancor, and it rushes towards me, being the only one that hadn't fled through doorframe, where the reduced ceiling height meant the monster couldn't follow us.

I wildly shoot my own weapon at the Rancor, and I think I few of the shots may have actually struck the creature, but it didn't even seem to take note of the energy discharges striking it. How does one kill this thing? You'd have to have a goddamn missile launcher or something. I shoot one more final time, my shot going wild and cutting through the air near the Rancor's eye. I'm only three feet from the door now, and hold tightly onto my weapon as I break into a full sprint.

Two feet away, and I can hear the creature's fist grab at the air behind me, the whoosh of air strong enough to make my hair move about in the wind. I am physically sweating from the heat of the Rancor's breath, and only one foot away from the door now. At the last moment, I jump, despite the screaming in my aching legs, straight through the portal, firing my blaster at the door control panel. As the door seals, the damage done to it must have fried its electronic components, as it was completely locked in place, all but closed. Satisfied, I sigh, glad to be safe.

While I enjoy my comfort, the metal door behind me receives a head butt from the Rancor, shaking heavily and caving in heavily. Thankfully, the door remained a solid, but bent, protection of being eaten to death.

"Right," I say, "Let's find a different way to Zaalbar, okay?"

I don't know for sure, but I really think that all three of them agreed.

For me, this was the second close call today. Despite that I knew everything that supposedly was going to happen to us here, I had nearly been consumed by a Rancor that I never saw coming. It didn't matter that I was Stephen, a computer whiz from Earth, supposed to be heading to college. All that mattered was that I was Stephen, trapped on Taris with Revan and crew, a kid from Coruscant. This is going to be harder than I thought.


	4. Chapter 4: Small s, Big Z

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 4 – Small s, Big Z

**Author's Note: Alright, here we go again. Stayed up really late last night to finish Chapter 3, but all the positive feedback I got is getting me back to work. Speaking of which, 37 reviews? Damn! You guys are absolutely fantastic!**

**So last time we had a brief meeting with the Sith, Stephen wrestled with a Rakghoul, met Mission, who fought with Carth. Then there was the Rancor. If you know your KotOR storyline, you know what's up next: Zaalbar and the Black Vulkar Base. **

**Finally, this will probably be the last chapter before my rate slows down. I've been writing almost all day just to finish and edit before I tear the desktop out and haul it to my dorm tomorrow. With all the positive reviews and such, I wanted to work on this before I slow down.**

**Oh, and review please. Makes me really happy.**

**BioWare and LucasArts own the KotOR characters and storyline. Not me. Otherwise I'd be rich, and I'm not. **

Carth's Theme –_ Music For Dialogues, _Elliot Goldenthal

I think I might have mentioned the smell down here, it's awful. That's the only thought I can actually think about. I hope Wookiees aren't like dogs, with all that messy hair, and they reek when they're soaked. Goodness knows all of us, Mission, Carth, Darius and I are covered with water, and that's the story I've got in my head. It's not really water, its water mixed with sewage waste, leaking all over the place from the pipes above our heads. We narrowly escaped a giant Rancor, meaning that we all were sweating profusely from the brief spring. Between our own perspiration and the sewer around us, and on us, we probably could drive off any would be attacker instantly. Which is great news for me.

Since I've arrived in this twisted reality, I've had to rely more on wits than strength or experience in combat to even survive. Stealing Sith ID cards? I'd take that option over firing my blaster. I had only killed two of the mutant Rakghouls since arriving, one of whom wasn't even focused on me. The other one I had to throw off me, and nearly had my own face bitten off because I left the damned safety on my gun. The only thing I even had running for me here was my limited martial arts training.

Oh, the fact that I've played through this entire series of events back on Earth has been pretty helpful too. It's a shame, though, things keep happening that I can't expect. When I first arrived, I knew Revan was the only way off Taris, so siding with him and just blasting the bad guys, who I knew would arrive, would be loads of fun, I could even be home for supper.

The reality of my situation had struck me before we had even set one foot in the sewers, and since then, it had only continued to ring true in my ears. For starters, I was now at a limited level of knowledge, things were proceeding ever so differently here compared to the game. I remember a book I read back home, and the theory that a butterfly flapping its wings could cause a tornado elsewhere; it's all about the echoes of your actions. I am that butterfly, just as pathetic, flapping my wings with ignorance. I'm going to mess things up, I know it.

A drop of sewage water lands on my silver armour, slowly dripping across the surface, which has been covered with a number of rather horrible things, ranging from blood to … other stuff. Speaking of my armour, the damned thing is heavier than hell, I had to run a total of three metres in order to save my life from the Rancor, and I think I might still be sweating from the effort it took to haul my own ass along with at least thirty pounds of solid metal plating. The game never told me that! Should've slowed the characters down to a crawl with this weight. And it hasn't even been that useful, either, since monsters leap onto me or are so massive that I could be coated with concrete and I'd still be a piece of candy to them. Just an armour plated, crunchy candy bar.

I turn and look and my three companions, two human men and a Twi'lek girl, her blue skin a stark contrast to us three non-aliens. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just different. All of us are armed, and our leader, Darius choosing traditional vibrosword over a blaster. I'm the only one out of us that finds any humour in that, knowing that once we all eventually escape Taris, Darius is going to be trained as a Jedi, and thus, wield that ultimate weapon, the lightsaber. Hopefully, he doesn't make it red… Dark Side Revan in the game just went about murdering NPC's, even party members, which includes me now. Shit, that's not a good thought at all.

"So, we just walk up, and ask for the Wookiee back?" I ask, waving a hand in front of us, gesturing towards the maze of catwalks that should lead us into the Gamorreans makeshift camp. We've got to find and rescue Mission's friend, Zaalbar, in order to break into the Black Vulkar Base, all to steal some prototype swoop part. Otherwise, we won't be able to rescue Bastila from the Vulkars. Talk about butterflies and echoes…

"Have you ever talked to a Gamorrean before?" Mission asks me, obviously amused by my tongue-in-cheek joke, "It's like talking to an eight foot tall pig."

Well, at least Mission seems in a much better mood than she was an hour or two ago. I can't say I blame her, she's been friends with Zaalbar for a good deal of her life, and the danger that he might be gone forever looms over her. Now, though, we should be pretty close to rescuing our future Wookiee teammate. Get ready for plenty of barks and growls. It won't be that bad until we reach Kashyyyk, the homeworld of the Wookiees.

We reach Kashyyyk? I mean they, my plans surely don't involve following Darius on his suicidal mission issued by the Jedi Council. I have barely survived these first few adventures, and I sure don't level up and get stronger over time. I'll tag along for now, and make my own way on Dantooine, maybe try and get back home to my family and friends. I can't help now but truly wonder if they've even noticed I've gone.

"You know Mission," I reply smartly, trying my best to tease her ever so slightly, "I'm not exactly eager to battle aliens that just happen to have giant, sharp, metal axes. Rakghouls are one thing, but…"

"Yeah, Stephen, you plan on wrestling one of the Gamorreans? I wouldn't try punching one, he might be stupid enough to not even notice…" Darius muses, practically laughing at me, "And then you're axed."

Oh, Revan, a pun? Of all tricks in the world, all the selection of jests, your sense of humour is absolutely awful. Just, please, stop. Another one that like that, especially at my expense, I was going to have to give Darius a book on how to actually tell a joke, rather than this garbage.

"Axed?" I hiss, trying not to sound offended or lecturing, "That's rubbish!"

Carth seems to agree with me, even giving his fellow Republic soldier a quizzical look, "That may have been a little extreme, Lieutenant."

Lieutenant? I guess part of Darius' cover story consists of a fake assignment and rank. Carth's a Captain, while Darius is lower in the hierarchy of the Republic military. Remembering my own limited knowledge about the military my father served in, this means that Carth should be commanding the mission, not Darius. For the purposes of the assignment, though, Darius had assumed command. He's an inspired fellow, I guess.

All four of us stop in front of a door, much like we had before confronting the Rancor earlier in the sewers. Luckily, though, this time there was no traces of giant monsters ready to rip all of us to shreds. Mission leans close to the slime covered entryway, listening to the quiet noises coming from the other side. After a few seconds, her face hardens with anger and rage. She must have found them.

Her single word reply only confirms my suspicion, as she turns to us, and says "Gamorreans." Zaalbar must be held in captivity somewhere back there, and we needed to find him. Everything revolves around that happening. I sincerely hope that the beating of my butterfly wings doesn't ruin the train of events that leads all of us away from Taris.

I sigh, pulling my weapon out, and the others do the same, a vast array of armaments now present, waiting to be used against our enemies. The humming of four different blasters warming up fills the room, cutting off the distant grunts and groans of the alien slavers. Remembering my incident with the Rakghoul in the Undercity, I ensure that the safety clip is switched to the "off" position, readying the pistol for several deadly shots of energy before I would have to eject the empty blaster pistol energy cell, and replace it with a new one. I'm not exactly sure how many shots I can fire, though. When the gun refuses to respond, I guess that's my answer. Let's roll with it, hopefully my first firefight without being tossed about like a ragdoll.

Darius looks at each of us in turn, waiting for an affirmative signal from Carth and Mission before turning to me. Double checking my own weapon, I look into the man's eyes and nod once, the simple signal that I'm ready for whatever awaits us behind that door. I slip my right index finger through the blaster guard, the edge of the glove just barely away from the trigger. I'm ready.

Our leader waves his open palm a few feet away the door sensor, and the portal opens in a single, swift motion. Obviously surprised to see us, one of the Gamorrean guards is only a foot behind the door portal, and takes several seconds to register our presence. These aliens must be incredibly dim-witted, he, or she, I guess, is itching its head before grabbing its massive axe resting on the side of the sewer wall. Before the Gamorrean could swing its mighty weapon at any of us, Carth, Mission and I all aim our weapons, burst of energy shooting forth, slamming into the alien with enough force to burn holes through its body.

I use my left hand to rest the edge of my pistol on, my limb parallel to my chest. However, this was yet another Hollywood cliché hindering my efforts to accurately use a blaster. Instantly after firing the weapon, I felt a wave of heat on my arm, emitted by the vents on the outside of the blaster. Angrily swinging my arm in pain, I return to wielding my pistol with one hand, the other useless at my side.

The first massive, pig-faced alien drops to the ground, which happens to be a drain, in order to filter the leakage from the sewage pipes that were still raining on all four of us. With a clear line of sight, I see a large anti-chamber, with three more Gamorreans inhabiting the area, obviously having set up some sort of camp. Spurred on by the crashing of their comrade, all three making a mad rush for their own weapons, ready to meet us in battle.

As the lead Gamorrean charges, Darius runs to meet him, his only remaining blade in hand. From a few feet away, I can hear him chuckle, "This is where the fun begins." The Gamorrean raises his arms high above his head, a cleaver that was obviously far too large for practical use in his grip. The alien swings straight down, slow and deliberate movement that screams with power. At the last moment, Darius rolls out of the way, swinging his sword at the beast's thick legs.

Carth and I handle another of the Gamorreans, shooting wildly at the monster. I depress the trigger twice in a row, and only one of the shots actually hits the pig, a glancing blow in its arm. The Gamorrean squeals, much like the animal from Earth that it resembles, and runs a beefy hand over a blackened wound before glaring at me, a desire for blood being easily readable, despite the difference of intelligence and race.

I glance back towards Darius, who runs his own weapon straight through the chest of the Gamorrean, blood spilling all over the blade, a final, desperate cry emanating from the alien's lips. To my right, Mission has all but dispatched her opponent, a rapid flurry of blaster fire keeping the axe-wielding enemy at bay. Damn, I could use a gun like that, unlike my pathetic, cheap one.

"Stephen!" Carth cries out to me, over the sounds of battle, which are nearly deafening to the human ear. I whip back to our own Gamorrean target, expecting it to be staggering some distance away, wounded and helpless. That is certainly a mistake: assuming all aliens act just like humans do. I mean, if I was shot, I'd probably be screaming and curled into a small ball, praying not to die. Instead, the alien was stuck in a blood rage, only thinking of killing me, or at least, that's what I could tell.

Time seems to slow ever so slightly, just enough for me to track the swing of the Gamorrean's weapon on my right-hand side. I raise my own weapon, and fire once more. Thankfully, I can hit a massive pig at this distance, but the alien doesn't even seem to notice, the metal blade getting ever closer to me. At the last moment, the Gamorrean seems to tip to the side, looking as if he was going to fall.

Before I can even force my eyes to follow the alien as he falls to the ground, the world cuts to black, just as a chill slips down my spine.

* * *

When my eyes finally open again, I see the concerned face of a man looking over me, his hair pulled backwards, sort of like a mullet. How ridiculous. It takes my brain a few moments to understand what I'm seeing, but eventually it connects; that's Darius. He's moving so slowly, maybe saying something to me, but I can't read his lips when they're moving at such a slow pace. Is he even talking to me?

I move my head about, feeling a tingling numbness at the back of my head, and everything feels so wrong, like someone took down the footage of the world and made a slow-motion scene or something. That doesn't make since, I'm not even in the Matrix. I turn back to Darius, who rolls his eyes briefly before swinging a cupped hand towards my face.

"Hey! Snap out of it," Darius says, back to his normal speech, pulling his hand back from slapping me across the face.

I sit up, and feel something wet on the back of my head. Figuring it must be sewage, I don't even think much of it, and dismiss it. Someone else is obviously concerned, though, and I feel another's hand probe the area, and a quiet gasp escapes their lips. Sounds a lot like Mission, I think.

"You know where you are?" Darius asks me, and I notice that his blue eyes are staring deep into my own, looking for something there, maybe judging my reaction carefully. With this war with the Sith, I'm sure there's shell-shocked soldiers somewhere in the history of the conflict. It can't be that uncommon.

Trying my best to brush aside the pain all over my body, I reply "Yeah, sitting on my ass in a sewage drain. Why can't we go anywhere nice?"

I hear Carth laugh behind me, and pitch in his own analysis, "He'll be alright, Darius."

I start to try and get up on my own power, only to see a blue hand outstretched in front of me, Mission's. I can't help but smile, and grab onto her arm, pulling my tired and aching body up off the drains and metal flooring. I'm getting really tired of getting beaten to a pulp every time we get into a fight. After this, it's got to stop; I don't care how at this point. Starting to make me really cross…

"Don't worry about it," Mission comforts me, reading my concerned expression as plainly as a book, "Any one of us would've been the victim of that pig, it just happened to go for you." She smiles, and pats me on the shoulder to reassure me just a bit. Doesn't help too much, though.

"I guess," I say, not exactly comforted by my own failures. "First the Rakghoul, then this… I don't know... I'm starting to feel pretty useless."

Yeah, at this rate, I'll either knock myself out, or some of those one foot tall gizka animals are going to come up, looking all cute and innocent and bite my arm off. I'm honestly surprised I haven't tripped and fallen unconscious.

"I wouldn't say useless," Mission corrects me, "just inexperienced. Maybe when we're out of this mess we can fix that."

That wouldn't be a bad idea, actually. That way I can hold my own in a fight without having this happen to me every bloody time. In the meantime though, time to move on. Looks like we got rid of the Gamorreans, at least here. Now that I've shrugged off the unpleasant side-effects from our fight, I fall in line with Carth, Mission and Darius, and all four of us stroll into the makeshift Gamorrean camp.

While I'm walking, at the back of our group, I can't help but place one of my hands on the back of my head, a bit worried that it isn't just more of that disgusting water that splashed onto me during the fight. My hair's really short, it should have dried by now, but it's still soaking wet. When I draw my hand back into my line of sight, I see it came back with a layer of blood. I hate the look of blood, makes me want to be sick, just add to the considerable, miserable mess I am.

Trying not to inconvenience the others, and slow us down even more, I just ignore the wound, and move on, jogging in order to catch up to Carth, who's just behind Mission and Darius. The tension is high, we must be almost there, any minute now we'll find a giant Wookiee somewhere in here.

"Kid, Mission's right," Carth says to me as I walk next to him, turning to look me in the eye, instead of just keeping his head facing forwards, "You did just fine back there."

I snort quietly at this, and reply "I haven't made it through one of our little encounters without being thrown around or knocked out. What's going to happen when we get inside the Vulkar base?"

"Not everyone starts off by learning to fight Rakghouls, Stephen. Even Davik's men were being killed out there, remember? You're already doing better than I was after I enlisted."

Before I can ask exactly how bad that must have been, maybe just to make myself feel a bit better, Mission interrupts our conversation, while handling a crude locking mechanism on a nearby door. Why are there so many doors down here? In case of overflows? The thought of a flooding sewer system makes me shudder just a bit before giving Mission my full attention.

"Take a look at this," she says, biting her lip in frustration. All of us had seen her incredible skill with lock picking elsewhere in the sewers, but this apparently was too much for her. "It's an older mechanism, no computer codes or nothing. I haven't seen one of these on Taris at all."

No computer codes? So, the kind of locks back on Earth? They can't be entirely obsolete, and Zaalbar must be behind it, as he was in the game. Assuming that hasn't changed, like the Rancor. If it needs a key, I sure am not digging through the Gamorrean corpses looking for one. Looks like it's time to deal with this the old fashioned way!

I draw my blaster, this time I'm able to turn off the safety as I level the gun, instead of fumbling with the switch for a few seconds. The blaster hums to life, and before anyone else can interrupt me, I fire at the lock, and vaporise it in a split-second. Satisfied with myself, I smirk while holstering the weapon, as the door opens, no longer restrained by the security device. Score one for me!

In the game, Zaalbar was simply standing behind the door, probably having spawned there waiting for the player to open the entrance. This, though, is entirely different. It strikes an image in my heart that I doubt I'll forget, forever cementing the difference between reality and a game. Huddled on the floor, arms wrapped around his massive frame, head drooped low in defeat, was Zaalbar. He's literally shaking, probably from the cold, and doesn't even notice our presence.

While Mission seems almost frozen from seeing her best friend in such a manner, Darius tries to get Zaalbar's attention first, by walking close to the Wookiee, saying "Zaalbar? Can you hear me?"

No response at all. Damn, this is really grim. I wonder if we've been too late. In the game, this was such a light-hearted adventure with Mission. Instead, I've found a very dark, morbid reality. I hope things don't get any worse; we've still got quite a ways to go.

"Hey, Big Z," Mission says, walking up to the diminished form of her once-mighty friend, placing a hand on his scruffy head, "It's me, Mission!"

Wookiees are damn impressive aliens, ever since I saw Chewbacca from the original _Star Wars;_ they've been pretty awesome, strong enough to rip the arms of a droid when Chewbacca nearly lost that one board game, whatever that was. Seeing Zaalbar might change my opinion, though. Finally, the Wookiee looks up, into his friend's face, and lets loose a happy series of barks and growls.

Carth looks at me, confused, and I shrug my shoulders. I guess neither of us can understand Wookiee-speak, Shyriiwook, I think it's called. What's with all these complicated names? It's a bit insane, but I'm sure the Wookiees would say the same about us. Mission and Darius seem to understand whatever it is Zaalbar just said, though, judging by their nodding and facial expressions.

"These are my new friends, Big Z!" Mission triumphantly declares, "Without these guys, I wouldn't have ever been able to get out you out of here."

"Nice to meet you Zaalbar, I'm Darius, and these guys here are Carth and Stephen," Darius says, giving us all a brief introduction to our newest team member. I try to look friendly, waving my hand, but Carth just nods silently. Mood killer.

In KotOR, Zaalbar says something about how he is surprised that Darius knows the Wookiee language, so I assume that's the rough translation of what he's barking out right now. I wonder if there's some sort of translator device I could buy, even though I'm completely broke. Maybe when HK-47 joins the party, but that wouldn't be until Tatooine, whenever Darius decides to go there.

"A life-debt? Are you sure about that Big Z?" Mission asks her friend, sounding a bit confused and unsure of whatever it was the Zaalbar just said. Something about swearing a life-debt to Darius, since we all came and rescued him from a life of slavery and torment, which looks pretty horrible judging by Zaalbar's condition right now, after only a few hours of imprisonment.

The Wookiee continues speaking and likely explaining himself to Mission, before she sounds amazed, talking to Darius, "Big Z swearing a life-debt to you? Wow… this is major. Do you really know what this means?"

Darius shakes his head, giving her his best guess, "It's like a loyalty vow, right?"

"A life-debt is the most solemn vow a Wookiee can make, Darius," Mission says, occasionally glancing at Zaalbar, "Zaalbar will stand by your side for the rest of your life. No matter where you go or what you do."

Darius seems pretty surprised, no doubt about that. If I saved someone, only to have them swear to fight by my side, I'd be shocked too. He regains his composure, and gives a very diplomatic answer, "I'd be honoured to accept your life-debt, Zaalbar."

Sweet! Even if he's a bit shaken now, we've got a beastly, massive Wookiee on our side. In the game, he was epic with swords, so hopefully the same is true here, if anything else, he can draw fire away from me so I don't end up with several dozen blaster holes through my body, which will likely happen before we all leave Taris. Either that or I'll let my secret slip and be locked in an insane asylum. Paranoia!

This is the part where Mission agrees to join us too, right? "I guess that means you three are stuck with me too," she says, and turns to Zaalbar, "I lost you once, big guy, it's not happening again."

"One big happy family," I mutter, and Mission turns to look at me, a bit of a scowl on her face. I didn't mean to say that aloud!

"And you!" she says, pointing a finger at me, "I've got to watch you and make sure you won't kill yourself in the meantime."

Hey! Sod off, Mission. That was totally uncalled for.

* * *

Now that we had found Zaalbar, and gotten both him and Mission on our side, it was time to move on through the sewers, and head through the back entrance of the Vulkar Base, which was no doubt guarded. Hopefully there won't be another Rancor there, like there was in the game, since it apparently migrated and found us all to be delicious treats elsewhere in the sewers. Luke Skywalker sure made fighting a Rancor look easy in _Return of the Jedi_. Then again, if KotOR was like that film, we could recruit an army of invincible teddy bears to fight for us. They might even win against the Sith!

Since we finally found the Gamorrean camp, Mission claimed to know exactly where we were going, and I had the feeling that she had taken a "secret trip" into the Vulkar Base more than once before. Swoops gangs and their stupid conflict. What is there to even fight about? Whose swoops have the biggest rims? I think Gadon said that Brejik, leader of the Vulkars, wants to rule the Lower City of Taris, but gangs aren't armies are they?

As typical as it sounds, I am once again at the back of the line, but we aren't travelling forwards, instead we're headed straight up. Unlike the rest of Taris, where the average citizen is smart enough to develop elevators, the sewer system uses rusted ladders, which have creaked and groaned as the others started heading up. Mission, though, assured me that this is the only way into the Vulkar Base.

I take my first step onto the ladder, and my foot nearly slips off. Damnit! There's so much sewage water that's on here, I can barely even get a grip. Why can't there just be loading screens and we magically warp to the next area? I hate heights, they're absolutely terrifying. Nervously holding my breath, I take a few steps up the ladder, and look back down, instantly regretting my choice.

When I take a look back up, I can see that Mission has turned her head just enough to check on my progress, and I suspect she can see the fear in my features.

"You okay, Stephen?" she asks me, taking another step up the massive ladder, "It's just a ladder, you know."

"Just a ladder, in the sewers of a crime and poverty infested underworld," I defend myself, quickly becoming angry with her accusations and my considerable height off the ground doesn't help my mood one bit, "It's something I've yet to experience."

I take an additional three steps up the ladder before Mission replies, "You're telling me you've never done anything like this? I went down here when I was fourteen, and that was almost five years ago!"

No, Mission, I haven't been in the mood to commit suicide, so I haven't been climbing up slippery ladders.

"Well, I guess I've led a more pampered life than you have," I say, trying to concentrate on grabbing the next bar above my head, so as I don't slip, nobody is underneath me, so I won't be caught if a fall. Though, anyone above me that falls is going to come crashing down. Especially if that someone is Zaalbar, he has to weigh more than all of the rest of us put together.

"Oh, yeah" she replies, her tone turning angry, offended by my comment, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Normally I think I'd be a bit more concerned with the possibility of making Mission and the others cross with me, but after climbing through a series of sewers, fighting mutants and pigs, all of which is so much more appealing when they're pixels and not out to kill me and rip my flesh off my bones. And now, here I am, dangling dozens of feet above the ground and my Twi'lek friend is making fun of me. It's been one hell of a day, missy.

"You and I are about the same age," I try to explain without being too angry, "But I'm not the type of person to go and try and kill myself in all sorts of unusual ways."

Mission doesn't say anything back to me, and just keeps on climbing, which does give me a nice bit of scenery, if I wasn't so worried I would die from the damn ladder, I'd admire the view. The steps were starting to twist and turn a bit, clearly having been the site of a scuffle involving the Rakghouls or some other beast at some point in the past. Goodness knows the entire Undercity, and these sewers were infested with them in the game.

After what feels like an hour, Mission whispers to me, "Then … why are you here?"

Now, that's a damn good question. I can't use my real answer: 'Taris is going to be wiped out in a few days and Darius and the other crew members of the _Ebon Hawk_ will be the only survivors.' Even the other Sith still on the surface will be killed, a massacre on an insane scale. I'm not that picky, you know, but I'm really hoping to avoid that fucking mess!

"I might be useless," I say, improvising quickly, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation, "but I want to rescue Bastila and stop the Sith as much as anyone else."

"Well," Mission replies, "you might want to work on your aim with a blaster, then." This time, she doesn't sound upset with me, or confused by my motivations, she is coming across like a helpful mentor or teacher. This is kind of irritating, though, I wouldn't mind if Carth or Darius taught me a few tricks, but Mission? How… awkward. Someone my age lecturing me, especially a woman. I've never been good in situations like that. I always manage to look like an idiot.

"Are you offering to teach me, Mission? Or just telling me I need to practice?" I ask, and I've just noticed a bright light coming from above my head, we must be close to the end of this horribly frightening series of steps. I grasp the final rung, and my hand slips for just a moment. Fuck! Before I completely fall, Mission reaches out and grabs my loose limb, giving me the chance to crawl out of the ladder hatchway, and onto the metal floor.

The woman is smirking, taunting me with a sarcastic smile. Once I've caught my breath, she says, "That depends, _Stephen_. Are you asking me to teach you?"

"Well," I muse, "not right now, no. Maybe if we get out of here, we'll see."

I look around at the room we've travelled into. It looks a lot like the sewers we've been exploring for the past few hours, just much cleaner, but the architecture and material in the walls is exactly the same. If I had to guess, we're really close to the Black Vulkar Base, but this is somewhat different from the game, stealing my omnipotence from me. At least I'm still a step above the others, I suppose.

Zaalbar growls, sounding pretty confused, but I can't tell for sure. As he's talking to the two people that understand him, he shakes himself off, just like a dog, spraying water towards all of us. Disgusting, mate! I try to do the same with my hair, but judging by how damp my hair still is, I don't think it actually worked that well. Worth a shot, right?

"Yeah, this is it," Mission says, and she points at the door in front of us, "this is where the Vulkars throw their garbage in; it's a compactor or something. We can slip in right here."

"Remind me when this is over," Carth mutters, patting his beloved orange coat dry, "I'm showering first in the apartment." He even runs two fingers through the front of his hair, ensuring that his typical hairstyle returns.

"Really?" Darius asks, swinging his sword, drops of something disgusting flying off, "You might be my superior officer, Captain, but I'm taking my shower first."

"What makes you say that, LT?" Carth asks, looking pretty amused, "Between the two of us…"

Hey! Two? "The two of you?" I say, feeling a bit forgotten, "What about me? And Mission, and Zaalbar, too… Speaking of which, man, your breath is horrifying."

"Well, the kids can wait for their elders to shower first," Carth teases me, before Zaalbar's roars interrupt him.

Waiting for either Mission or Darius to pick up the conversation, I notice that there is quite literally a massive puddle around us, and there's rather large piles of trash in the rest of the room. One of the things I can't stand, even today, is trash. Makes me want to go wash my hands...

"Zaalbar, I didn't want to say anything, but…" Mission pauses, looking for the right words, "Your breath has smelled awful since we rescued you from those Gamorreans."

The Wookiee replies in his usual manner and I can actually remember this conversation from the game. I think he's saying something about how he bit a chunk out of one Gamorrean's arm off, but it tasted awful. He's certainly much braver than I am.

"Ewwww," Mission practically spits in disgust from what she's just heard, "Z, that's horrible! They didn't feed you there?"

Before Zaalbar can answer Mission's stupid question, Darius cuts in, sword drawn in one of his hands. The door at the end of this trash bin is open, and the man has his head peering around the corner.

"Quiet you lot," he says, turning back around to face us, "There's two Nikto guards a few meters away from the entrance to the Vulkar Base, with energy shields, they're off guard, but I think all of us will alert the guards. We've got to be smarter about this."

"So, that'd be the first since I signed up, right?" I ask, good-natured, but there's a certain truth behind my words: all of our fights consisted of running in and shooting. That's a fun tactic in _Halo _or _Call of Duty_, but anyone with an entrenched position is going to shoot holes through us while we line up our own shots. Unpleasant.

"It's a damn shame my stealth field generator is soaked," Mission says, as she plays with the buttons adorning her belt, "Otherwise…"

"Did you say energy shields?" Carth asks, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "That means that blasters won't do anything, but shields won't stop a sword, or anything at extremely close range."

"Send me," I say, in spite of the feeling in my gut that I was going to be killed or knocked on my arse again, which wasn't outside the bounds of possibility, considering my track record in armed combat thus far. To be fair, it's only my first day here.

"Excuse me?" Carth asks me, and I don't think that son of a bitch trusts me. He wouldn't be Carth otherwise, but it's still damn nauseating.

"No offense, mate, but you and Darius look like soldiers. Back straight, guns in hand," I even make my point by straightening my back, which is normally hunched just a fair bit, "And you, Mission, you're dressed in the colours of the Beks."

"So, you think you can talk them out of stopping us?" Darius asks, raising an eyebrow. Hey! That's my trick, took me months to get down.

"Maybe," I say, "Maybe not. But they won't shoot me the instant they see me, right? It's worth a shot; you've got to trust me on this."

Forget the fact that I have no plan really, and not very many weapons at all, and I don't even know what I'm doing, but trust me! I don't have much to lose, and this could very well be my chance to prove myself to the others, who don't have a high opinion of my abilities.

"Alright, Stephen" Darius says, putting his sword away in its sheath, "You've got a plan? This is your shot."

At least someone has faith in me, I sure as hell don't have it in myself. I double-check that my gun is safe on my waist, and signal Darius, ready to do my part here. I'm going to adlib this, hopefully it goes well.

I walk around the corner, a cocky smile across my face. I remember the words of my Debate Instructor back in school, 'look confident even if you really aren't.' As I try and stroll casually, and I instantly spot the two aliens across the room, their beady black eyes narrowing at the sight of me. Didn't these guys make up almost every NPC in the Vulkars? They certainly don't look human at all.

"Hey," one of them says, "Looks like we've got ourselves a snack today." The other smiles in a sick, vile manner when he hears that. Oh, god, I'm really going to get it this time. I try and remember an alias and back story off the top of my head.

Continuing to walk towards the pair, who are glowing with blue lights, an energy shield, I say, "Hello, I'm Captain Troy Handsome of the …err… International Rescue. If you could please state the nature of your medical emergency?"

The two aliens laugh at me, one hits the other on the shoulder, while spitting on the floor in front of him. Now I'm only a metre away, my idiotic Doctor Who reference amusing them just enough to let me get close enough. They stop laughing when they realise what exactly I've done, and whip out their blasters, pointing them right at me.

Thankfully, they must think it logical to give me a decent warning before trying to shoot at me. Even better in my lucky streak, my armour only covers my chest, leaving my legs and waist able to use their full flexibility. It's been a while, but I have quite a bit of that beloved flexibility, as well as a fair amount of reach. While the Nikto stupidly stares me down, I take my right leg, spinning it around my eye level, in a circle in front of me, striking the alien across the face, a loud _smack_ rewarding my rather sloppy kick. While he stumbles backwards, I lunge forward, right foot hitting the ground, and I lift my left leg straight up, delivering a solid kick into his armoured chest. Even with a few inches of plating, the Nikto falls back.

Knowing that the other gang member was likely to start shooting, even though I was dangerously close to his friend, I grab the falling Nikto, using him as a shield. Two blaster bolts fly into the alien's shields, which flicker and fail. I could've used my blaster had I known that his shields would last all of two seconds under fire! While the more distant Vulkar tries to move into a line of sight, I throw the other onto the hard, metal floor, knocking him out for the moment.

One down, one to go.

My hand drifts to my waist, hovering over my blaster. I pull the gun out, this time using my left hand to grip the handle as well, hopefully being able to shoot more carefully and precisely. I move to the side, a blaster shot burning a sizable hole into my silver armour, and fire my gun. The shot goes wide, over his right shoulder, so I have no other choice to shoot again, this time it goes off course, but still hits him, in the knee. He screams in pain, clutching his knee with one hand, and holding onto his weapon with the other. Before he can take one more shot, I land two more blaster shots into his chest, ending his life.

Before I can celebrate my victory, an impact slams me in the back, nearly knocking me onto my front. I stumble around, finding that the first Nikto has recovered, and made a dash for his fallen blaster. He shoots once more, but I manage to avoid it, and kick the blaster out of his hands. Sadly, he makes yet another attempt to kill me, leaving me with no choice but to do to him what he planned to do to me.

Feeling disappointed in myself, I sulk back to Mission, Carth, Darius and Zaalbar, glancing at the hole in my armour. I figure there has to be one on the back plating, as well. At some point, I'll have to have that fixed, and avoid gunfights in the meantime, which probably won't happen in a base full of angry Vulkars.

"You did it!" Darius exclaims, walking around the corner of the hallway, pointing to the two men I had killed. "I knew you wouldn't let us down, Stephen."

Zaalbar roars approvingly, and pats me on the back, which hurts far worse than the shot my armour took for me. I wince, halfway bent over, my spine feelings like the damn Wookiee broke it into two pieces. No wonder his strength stat is so high.

"Yeah, it's done. They're dead," I say, trying to keep my voice level and even, an effort to hide what I was really thinking.

Mission, though, seems to pick it up, though. "You did what you had to," she assures me, touching my arm ever so briefly, "They would have killed you, remember. The Vulkars don't know anything else but murdering innocents."

"Doesn't make me feel much better," I admit, shrugging as all five of us walk through the large, metallic door that the Vulkars were guarding with their lives, "I've… never meant to, you know…"

"Kill besides self-defence," Darius finishes for me, his normally upbeat and happy tone mostly gone, "I know the feeling. But that's what separates us from them."

I guess so, but I can't help but wonder if the two of them had family, wives or children. What were they going to do in their lives? Would they have maybe survived Taris, rebuilt, moved on, done great things? Who am I to take their lives, winking out their future? I don't even belong here, I should be back on Earth, going to college, learning new things and meeting new people. Instead I'm a murderer, like the ones you see on the news. "Two guards killed by nineteen year old gunman."

I know Revan is right, but it doesn't make me feel better.

* * *

Shortly after stumbling through the Vulkar Base, all of us decided to split up, a decision that honestly frightens me. Carth and Darius were one team, and Mission, Zaalbar and I were the other. While the four of them tried to guess where the prototype swoop accelerator was hidden in this massive complex, I casually suggested that a swoop part would be stored in the garage. So, the two military officers were going to investigate the garage, while the rest of us, including me, would check out the main level.

We walk into an empty room, searching for anything that would help us out, in any possible way. Remembering that I entered the sunless Undercity near nightfall, I do glance at the clock in the corner of the chamber, and I'm surprised at the answer it gives me. 1132. Since it doesn't have AM or PM, I have to assume that it's in military time, which is much more effective than "normal time." I'm pretty surprised, we've been wandering the Undercity all night, but the adrenaline rush has kept me awake, thankfully.

"We've been wandering in piles of shit," I think aloud, "for what? Six hours? I love this job."

"Don't worry," Mission replies, "We'll be out of here pretty soon, and we just got to find that swoop part."

I tried to hint that the part would be in the garage, but I can't just say "Hey guys, I know exactly where it is, by Brejik's second in command in the garage. How do I know? I played this all in a video game, you're all pixelated characters!" This whole undercover act is a lot worse than I thought it'd be. At least things will be looking up after this.

Wordlessly, the three of quietly slip into the Vulkar's next room, a series of kitchens. Quietly being a relative term here, since Mission and I are joined by an eight foot tall Wookiee, the patting of his feet on the floorboards is a pretty good giveaway as to our location. So much for stealth, right?

Before any of us can look about, I hear a sad, desperate plea from somewhere across the kitchen. Judging by the pitch, it sounds like a woman, probably a human. I finally spot her, just past a collection of sink-like things.

"Please don't hurt… I just serve food here, that's all," she tries to explain to the three of us, "That's all I do, I'm just a slave!"

Instead of answering, I turn to Mission, "The Vulkars take slaves? Tell me you guys don't…"

Mission shakes her head, looking the serving girl up and down sadly. "The Beks don't believe in slavery, but the Vulkars aren't so picky."

I think the slave is still not convinced that we won't kill her or something, since she's still making an effort to convince us that we shouldn't turn to psychotic nutcases and murder her instantly. "My name's Ada, my father owed money to Davik…. That son of a bitch sold me to the Vulkars after he killed my dad."

Damn, that's an unattractive story. I have trouble wrapping my head around the whole slavery thing. I mean, I've read about it in history class, at least the college level courses were much more honest to you about how brutal humans were to one another, but in _Star Wars_? There are Jedi, wondrous technologies like the hyperdive, and dozens of alien races. But slavery still exists, and it will continue on, since Anakin Skywalker starts life of as a slave. So much for enlightening times and an era of knowledge.

Without even consulting my two companions, I shake my head, feeling pretty angry at the whole situation. "Listen, sister, pretty soon we're going to be head-deep in Vulkars. When that happens, I want you to run for it. They're too busy in the garage right now, I think. Get the hell out of here."

Light side points gained?

I don't think she needs to be told twice, that's for sure. "Thank you, so much," she says, weakly smiling. She hesitates for a minute, and suddenly leaps forward onto me, wrapping her slender arms around my shoulders. Before I can even stop her, I feel her lips on mine, giving me a quick, but passionate kiss. When she peels herself off me, I have my eyebrows raised in utter shock, frozen as he runs off.

I close my eyes in embarrassment, and become very interested in my palm, which has curiously found its way onto my face. Which is worse, the remaining sewage on my hand, or how deeply I was blushing, I wasn't sure. She wasn't that pretty, but honestly, it's been quite a while since anyone's done that to me. Sad, really.

"Ooh, Stephen, thank you," Mission taunts, her voice incredibly flirtatious and mocking, and when I turn around, she has her lips perched out for a kiss.

"Hey! Shut up," I yell back, not wanting her to see my red face, so I turn my fascination to the remaining food in the kitchen. I take a small bit, and try to eat it. Sadly, it tastes as awful as chocolate back on Earth, so I spit in onto the floor, and in doing so, accidentally turn to Mission.

"Let me guess," Mission continues, "you kissed her back?"

"No," is my answer, something of a lie.

"Really?"

"I kissed her mouth."

* * *

After the slave-kissing incident, Mission continued to try to get some sort of reaction out of me, but I continually ignored her taunts. We even managed to fight off a group of three Vulkars, but, as I expected, we were completely unable to find the prototype swoop accelerator anywhere in the abandoned base. It's in the garage!

We're about to turn a corner, and I look around the wall, and see four Vulkars race towards the elevator, which has to lead to the lower level. I can't help but wonder if straight-forward thinking Darius destroyed the entire notion of stealth, and is ripping through Vulkars.

"Looks like Darius and Carth better be ready for the Vulkars," I say to Mission and Zaalbar, "actually, the Vulkars better be ready for Carth and Darius!"

Mission rolls her eyes, but Zaalbar at least found my joke funny, and slaps my back again. I really need to learn Wookiee-speak so that I can actually talk with him, tell him to ease off on the back patting, I'm going to have my spine broken before we get off Taris!

The three of us turn the corner, and the Vulkars that we had our eye on are mysteriously lying on the ground, taking a nap. Or they've died, and since a triumphant Darius and Carth have emerged from the elevator, I'm going to guess that it's the latter. I was thinking Canderous would easily be the most bad-ass out of our group, but I think Darius might be up in the running for that achievement.

As soon as the Republic soldiers are close, I ask the question on my mind, "I take it you found the accelerator?"

Smiling, Darius produces a complicated piece of machinery latched onto his belt, and quite frankly, it doesn't look that impressive, just some piece of junk you'd find under the hood of a 1960's Volkswagen Beetle. Who would have guessed it's actually the key to saving Bastila, and eventually saving our own hides from the Sith?

"We had to fight a small army of Vulkars," Carth adds, "But I'm sure that's not interesting to you kids."

Screw you, good sir.

"Tell me we aren't heading out through the sewers," Mission says, wiping filth off her leather jacket, or what I presume to be leather. Are there cows on Taris?

"Nah," Darius replies, his head nodding in the direction of the massive front door to the Vulkar's headquarters, "We'll just waltz through the front door, back into the Lower City. Back to civilisation, so to speak."

With that, the five of us, the beginnings of the _Ebon Hawk_'s crew, march out of the base, unopposed, since all the guards were drawn to the garage level. I never thought I'd see the day where the Lower City looked so appealing. Run-down, metal panels falling in places, sparks and exposed wiring making it clear to me that this was an incredibly poor level of the city…

I love it. There are no Rakghouls, no Rancors, no Gamorreans, and we aren't practically drowning in waste.

No longer having to worry about attacks, just stares from passing gang members or citizens, often aliens, since the Upper City was almost entirely populated by racist humans, we happily walk to the Hidden Bek Base, were we are all immediately recognised by the sentry guard, who gladly opens the door for us.

We approach the Bek's leader, the blind Gadon Thek, who "looks" at our assembled group with those creepy blue cybernetic eyes. "You all have returned, even Mission and Zaalbar! Tell me, do you have the prototype accelerator?" He sounds almost impatient, but we both need that part for our own reasons. If the Beks win the race, we get Bastila, and Gadon gets more power over the Vulkars. Win-win situation.

"Yeah, we got your ruddy part, mate, had to swim in sewage to get it-." I start to answer, but Darius interrupts my complaints, which very well could have gone on for quite some time.

"We've got the swoop part, Gadon," Darius says, placing the component on the desk in front of Gadon, "Now it's your end of the bargain that's in question."

The older man shakes his head, glancing down at the accelerator before answering, "Don't worry, I'm a man of my word. I said you could race for the Beks, and I'm going to do one better, _you _are going to run the track with the prototype, modified engine."

I knew this development was fgoing to take place, but Darius is, of course, surprised. Taken aback, he replies, "Me? I've never driven a swoop in my life!"

"Don't worry, we've got a day to get you up to speed," Gadon says, which isn't the best news. It's like being asked to drive in NASCAR when you've never even touched a car once. Or if you've only driven automatic, which is a sad, sad thing. "I have to be honest, there's a chance that the modified swoop bike will overheat and explode during the race. I can't ask one of my own riders to take that chance."

"Very admirable," Darius sighs before turning to us, "We're staying with the Beks tonight. Take a goddamn shower, you all stink. See you all again in 8 hours, you all need the rest."

I remember once I rafted on a river with leaves and snakes in it, and desperately wanted a shower afterwards. But right now, I think I was ready to do almost anything for a shower, even if it was only a few minutes long, it'd be totally worth it, I think.

I turn to follow Mission as she walks away, since she's familiar with the layout of the base, but Darius stops me, tapping me on the shoulder. I said I wanted a bloody shower!

"Stephen," he says, turning me around to look at him, "I just wanted to tell you… you did well out there, especially for someone without any training. I hope you're ready for more, we do need all the help we can get, and I really think you've got what it takes."


	5. Chapter 5: Big Swoop Race

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 5: Big Swoop Race

**Author's Note: Wow, so I started this chapter at home, and forgot my flash drive. But here I am, starting this over, I guess, considering all the positive feedback I've gotten from the four chapters that are up. Including some wishes that I had no life, just to update this story. **

**I will keep updating, everyone. And just to clarify, the stars for Stephen's last name is because nobody needs to know the last name. 59 Reviews what? Sweet!**

**So last time Stephen got out of the sewers, kissed a girl, etc. and so forth. What's up next? The title says it all, mates. So let's get going right?**

_The Arrival at Tatooine and The Flag Parade,_ John Williams

There are simply no words that can describe how wonderful it all feels. The water flowing down my body and hair, taking with them something awful from the sewers. The drain under my bare feet has hungrily consumed all the waste and filth from my aching body, which I was more than happy to be rid of.

In the game, there was simply a cutscene that said "Hey, you get to rest here, and the race is tomorrow."

Time passes normally here, and in the right order. Unlike movies and games. I hate it.

If someone had come up to me and said, "I'm going to teleport you into another dimension, give you no money, clothes, and place you under the threat of an impending apocalypse," I would have punched them in the face.

But then again, we don't get to pick where we go in life, I guess. But there's a difference from moving around with a military family, and being flung across space and time. I would have thought that an adventure with the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ would be a fun experience. It's a T-rated game, for goodness sakes! This reality is sure going for realism; it's like the reboot of _Battlestar Galactica_…

As long as I don't run into a Cylon, let's call it good.

I run my hands through my hair, trying to expel anything caught in there, and my efforts are rewarded by a collection of grime falling to the floor of the shower. Confident that I have cleaned myself, I can't help but simply sit there and enjoy the shower for another minute or two. I surely have earned it, right?

Then, the water stops, time's up.

Fuck! I hate this!

I stumble out of the shower, grabbing the towel on the door, it would be just my luck to run around looking for my armour, embarrassing myself even further. Just to top of that thought, I'm sure Mission or Carth would be there to laugh at me. I left my jeans and t-shirt somewhere in the Upper City. I clearly was not thinking ahead when I did this. I wonder if I can find a new pair somewhere… I hate the clothes everyone wears here, all robes.

I find my guest quarters in the room just opposite of the showers, even labelled for me. Gadon must sure be betting on Darius to win that swoop race, and giving the rest of us a place to stay. I know Darius and Carth have an apartment of sorts in the Upper City, but I don't think I can make it all the way up there before passing out and taking a nap.

Plus, I'm only wearing a towel, the Beks offered to patch up my armour, and I don't have any other clothes.

"Stephen ******," I mutter, touching a finger to the digital display on the door, "That's me."

The instant I hit the bed, the soft warmth of the blankets and pillows envelops me, practically hugging me with their glory. Even if it was just an hour, I really could use the sleep. Not even a minute after lying down, everything vanishes to black.

* * *

I'm back in the Upper City, the light of day seems almost foreign now, after those countless, horrible hours in the sewers and the Undercity.

Or so it would seem, the sky is blackened quickly, a chill rushing across the metal platforms that link the massive skyscrapers together. It isn't the cold from a storm, the bite of winter. It is the feeling of impending death. That same feeling that you get from a graveyard, devoid of all life, just an echo of what you once knew.

There's a tingle in the back of my neck, an urging to look up. I don't want to look up, I'm afraid of what I'll find. Something that'll blacken the skies and bring about the end of the world. I can't look up.

I do it anyways.

I can't see whatever it is that has killed our light, the world of Taris, which a day ago was nothing more than a collection of pixels in the mind of a video game designer, and a consumer who never asked for this.

_Blink._

Grey masses slice through the sky, whatever flying wildlife on the planet remains close to the city seems to circle around the triangular shaped, foggy things.

_Blink again._

No, it can't be. This wasn't supposed to happen. This is exactly what I meant to avoid! I'm hallucinating, right?

_Blink, one more time._

The Sith are here, above Taris, in force. Their guns all pointed to the city, their numbers strong enough to even block out the sun of Taris. Ships fly off in the distance, shot down by the weapons of their destroyers. With no opposition, their main guns lower, pointing to the city they've been controlling, holding while they've been searching for Bastila.

"You always were too slow," says a familiar voice. That isn't conceivable either, that's my father's voice, berating as always. I turn around, finding someone else instead. One of the Sith soldiers, clad in that aluminium sheet they think is armour.

His hand flies across my face, hard enough to send me shooting towards the ground. The cold metal greets my tired body with a powerful blow. The pain fades away instantly, vanishing in a second, instead of growing in intensity, like normal.

The world is glowing red… That's really strange. What's going on here?

_Blink, for the last time._

* * *

I leap out of bed, I think I am going to seriously freak out. I can't help but reach for my arms and legs, mentally checking my body. Okay, I got it all. At least, I think so. I wipe my hand across my forehead, almost in relief… Except I'm covered with sweat. Great, I just showered too.

Everything is really blurry; I don't think my contacts have reacted well to my sleeping in them. I always forget to take them out, don't I? Not like there's any way to do that, though. No contact lens cases, nothing. I bet everything has that nifty laser eye surgery. Honestly, I can think of better things to do than have my eyeballs sliced open, thanks.

Damn, that was some dream. I wonder if the Beks threw something extra in my shower… I didn't ask for that. I've always been able to remember most of my dreams, but that sure was something else. A damn good alarm clock, or a reminder that the bed I've been sleeping in is going to burn in a few days. Hell, the entire city is! Those Sith…

Stumbling out of bed, I notice there's a pile of clothes and armour at the foot of the bed. Oh, good, looks like someone was up fixing this stuff. I look over all of it, smiling when I realise that it hasn't just been repaired, with barely noticeable patches covering the holes where I took blaster fire, but also cleaned, so that the black jumpsuit is black once more, rather than a mix of dirt and fabric. It looks pretty cool, too bad everyone in the Upper City thinks it looks stupid. The joke's on them, I guess.

I stretch the clothes over myself, slipping into them like a comfortable glove. This wouldn't be too bad, but I guess the armour plates make it look like I'm not wearing pyjamas anymore. The downside, of course, is that the damn thing has to weigh a ton.

I lift the plates onto my shoulders, and I suspect my posture has slouched quite a bit. I do not have the Medium Armour feat, I think. I hated primary school, having to carry around twenty pounds of textbooks on my back. And I don't weigh that much, always skinny for my age. Maybe I should have bought the light armour back in the Upper City.

Now that the damn armour is secured, more or less, I reach for my three only possessions: the blaster, my phone, and my tattered, beaten wallet. As basic as the first is, it sure saved my life a number of times since I got here. It's weak, and needs reloading far too often, but I do like it. Too bad I don't have my car back on Earth… As for the phone, I don't know why I'm even keeping it at this point. It doesn't have a signal, of course.

I clip the blaster to the right side of my belt, and the phone to the left, both secure in their own holsters. I pick up the last piece of my old life, the billfold, thumbing through its contents briefly. My old ID cards, a few bills, a worthless debit card. I ought to have just thrown this crap in the sewers, along with my true identity, the one left behind on Earth. It means nothing here. I won't be home soon, and I won't until we get off Taris, and I can find a way home on Dantooine.

I move the black leather wallet back and forth in my hands, silently debating what to do with it. There's a small trash bin here, why don't I just…? You know, toss it? If anything, all this crap is just a clue as to where I'm really from. Should I just keep that dangerous bit of knowledge on me?

Okay, so I've made up my mind…

My door opens, and Mission and Zaalbar walk into my makeshift bedroom. The larger of the two, the lumbering Wookiee has to bend over just to fit through the doorway. I guess the Beks didn't design this base with Wookiees in mind, Chewie? So many of my jokes would be lost on these guys, wouldn't they?

"About time you got up," Mission says, "You alright? You don't look so good." She looks a bit worried, if I can read Twi'lek facial expressions at all. There's a small little mirror next to me, so I shoot a glance. Blimey, I'm really pale, still a bit sweaty, too. I shouldn't have slept in those contacts; my eyes are a bit red. Ah, well, screw it, I guess.

"I'm fine," I reply, rubbing my eyes, as the contacts do their magical work, giving me near perfect vision, "How long have I been asleep?" Surely it can't be that long, but Mission sounds like I haven't woken up at the right time… I did have that bad habit back home.

While Zaalbar is busy scratching his fur on his head, Mission answers, "It's morning right now, and we've got a lot to do, you know."

What? The game didn't mention this! It just levelled us all up into beasts who cut through armies of NPC's. Hell, this part went right by.

"What do you mean? When's the race, not until tomorrow, right?" I ask, trying to figure out what the hell is even going on anymore. BioWare, please tell me these things in your games, just in case. At least _Mass Effect_ had a Codex, an exposition dump of sorts.

"Thanks to the Sith, the swoop gangs have had to move the race tonight," Mission explains, biting her blue lip ever so slightly, maybe a nervous habit? "Darius has been up early, learning to ride a bike."

Huh. I bet the swoop race isn't just a single bike on a track, dodging random rocks, switching gears by pressing "A" with only one boring camera angle. If it's an actual swoop bike, with gears… it took me a few days learning to drive a standard transmission car…

"What about Carth?" I say, not seeing any sign of our middle aged crew member, the seasoned Republic Officer. Where's that bloke run off to?

Zaalbar growls and roars at me, but not loud enough that it's painful. He's already got that level covered, after our adventures in the sewers and the Bek base. I think my back might still hurt, you big furry oaf.

"Yeah," Mission says, before turning her attention back to me, "Carth's down at the track, too. He's Darius'… second."

"How do you mean?" I ask, pretty confused now. A second? Like, the things that make up a minute?

Mission shakes her head, "If anything happens to Darius during the race, Carth has to take his place. You should know how dangerous swoop races are, they're really common on Coruscant."

Coruscant? Oh, fuck. My backstory.

"Yeah, I tried to stay away from that sort of thing," I lie. Damn, I hate lying to these guys. They're actual people, not just NPC's going on their business, which normally involves standing in one place for hours on end. "I don't like danger, if you haven't noticed."

"Right," Mission mutters, "So we've got a few things to do in the Upper City, Z and I figured you might want to join us, right?"

The Upper City? Only if I can go smack a child who made fun of my armour… Not really. Even though it looks grand and epic, Taris is a nasty place. Plus the Sith are up there, looking for Bastila… Probably me too. Knowing my luck, we'd all run into Sarna, the Sith woman I stole those papers from. Wouldn't that look great?

"Depends," I say, "What are we supposed to be doing, and what will we actually be up to?"

"Darius wanted us to pick up a few supplies," Mission replies earnestly, "Plus, we don't have a flag for the race presentation tonight…"

Okay, shopping. Too bad I don't have any money, an all too common crisis when I was at the mall on Earth. Window shopping, it looks like. Maybe I can find some clothes though. I can't imagine strutting about in this all day, forever. Wait, a flag? There was something like that in that one _Star Wars _movie with that horrible child actor. _"Are you an angel?"_ Fuck you, George.

"Does the presentation involve every racer having a flag at the line-up?" I ask, trying not to sound like the typical idiot in RPG games who hasn't a clue about the universe he's set in. No level ups, sure, but let's keep dumb dialogue options to a minimum.

"Right," Mission confirms my suspicion, which makes me feel at least a bit better. Not that much, but it's a start. "The Beks have a design they use, but technically, we're not the Bek's team. We're just sponsored by them."

"So," wait, we're our own team? Sweetness. Tusken Raiders sounds like a team name, too bad that'd be an idiotic choice. Right up my alley, right? "We get to make a flag and such?"

Mission nods, "That's right on, all for the team of Darius Rayner," she says happily, obviously enjoying the atmosphere of all this. It's good that at least one of us is. This all reminds me of NASCAR and being in those marching band parades back on Earth. Boring, hot, and all right-handed turns. I guess some people in the South like it, but whatever mates. Europe had some more interesting stuff.

"Sounds better than sleeping all day," I say, even though going back to sleep sounds like a fine idea… Though I'd hope to avoid any more of those dreams. I hate remembering dreams, especially the ones that involve me dying. Great way to lighten to the mood. "I wanted to do a bit of shopping myself, though," I add offhandedly, thinking back to my armour and blaster.

Zaalbar snorts and says something, and I think it sounds a bit impatient or maybe eager to get going. I honestly think it's one of the two, but it's pretty difficult to guess without any words to understand. I really should find a translator device, assuming they have them. No translation circuits or universal tricorder language … thing. Why can't this reality be like Star Trek, and everyone speaks English? Except the convenient use of Klingon…

"Let's get to it," I say to Zaalbar, not even waiting for Mission to reply to her friend. I'll try and look cool, like Han Solo and Chewbacca, he sure as hell didn't need translation! Of course, it'll take years here before I look as cool as Han Solo, shooting aliens first.

* * *

The trip back up the Upper City was pretty uneventful, though quite a bit different from the "rapid transit" system that KotOR used. "_You must gather your party before going forward_." Geez. The Sith don't want any of the dirty Lower City citizens travelling around the Upper City, it makes it harder for them to control everything up there. Though, I've got a sickening feeling that the humans in the Upper City wouldn't let aliens and gang members up here either.

Mission and Zaalbar went off on their own for a bit, I told them I need a few minutes to catch my breath. When I first got here, I just was on a dedicated mission: find Revan and start getting the hell off Taris. Nothing here mattered that much, it was just a recreation of BioWare's game. In the past day or so, I've sure realised that this world, this dimension is quiet real, just like Earth. My home.

Even though there's too much hate, too much racism up here, it sure is pretty. After being underneath layers of walkways and skyscrapers, the very feeling of the sunlight hitting my face… Wonderful. Damn, it sounds so damn clichéd, but the sun over the city, what a sight. Nothing that could be captured in paintings, games or movies. A picture would be closer, but that wouldn't do it all justice. I've been to a few cities, but nothing with the architecture of Taris. If I didn't know any better, it's so damn easy to forget what this all once was to me. A bunch of low-resolution environments on an older gaming console.

"Admiring the scenery?" a voice behind me asks, drawing my attention away from the edge of the walkway and the image presented to me.

"Yeah," I say, turning to find that Zaalbar and Mission have turned back for me, and they both seem really unimpressed with something I find amazing. "It's a sight, isn't it?"

Mission shakes her head, and she looks ready to spit, "Just a bunch of Tarisian nobles prancing about in their over-priced buildings."

Zaalbar adds something to our conversation, though I of course, still have no bloody idea what at this point. Thankfully, this time, Mission speaks up, "Big Z says that he agrees with you, Stephen. Something about his homeworld being like this, but trees instead of metal."

Kashyyyk? Don't worry, Zaalbar, at some point you and Mission will head back there, while Darius and Bastila are searching for a Star Map. Hopefully you lot all help overthrow the evil Czerka slavers, not enslave the Wookiees. That won't be until we head to Dantooine, though, and Darius becomes a Jedi and gets his official task from the almighty Jedi Council.

"Sorry mate," I tell Zaalbar, "trees aren't my thing. I never liked camping, or wildlife for that matter. Kashyyyk probably wouldn't be my kind of place."

Zaalbar looks surprised, his eyes widening ever so slightly, and lets loose a single bark as well. It probably isn't that common for outsiders to know that, fuck. I'm getting sloppy already, blowing my cover. I'm going to be ousted in an instant, hauled off to a mental ward, and probably shot as well.

"What can I say?" I say, not giving either of my companions a chance to speak up about my knowledge, "I've always had an interest in other cultures in the Republic and … throughout the galaxy." That ought to cover up any dumb things I say, as long as I don't through [Persuade] in front of my own dialogue sometimes. Or say 'hello Mission, I know you've got problems with your brother because I've played a game where everything here is in it.'

"And you never bothered to _learn_ any languages to those cultures, right?" Mission says, raising an eyebrow at me, "Having to rely on me for translation is pretty weak, you know."

Hey! Sod off!

"I never finished school," I admit, which is true in itself. "I was going to get a degree or something, maybe join the military, I don't know." It feels a bit refreshing to not outright lie. These guys are people too, I'll just have to omit certain facts.

"The Navy, like Carth?" Mission asks, seeming a bit shocked by my answer, but to be honest, that's the typical response I get. Skinny, nerdy, that's me, not your typical muscular, athletic bloke joining the Army. It's not unheard of, but… "I wouldn't have guessed that…"

"Oh, yeah? What's that supposed to mean, Mission?" I say, quickly becoming defensive and touchy on the subject. This always gets brought up! Even by my new friends in this new world?

The three of us head back away from the metal walkway, and towards the Equipment Emporium, where I had bought my weapons and armour before venturing into the Lower City. As good as any place to find what we need, assuming we have a million quid to spend. It's like Ferrari or Lamborghini, but without the coolness factor or anything worthwhile. Rubbish.

"Oh, nothing" she says, glancing at me once or twice while walking, "You just seem a bit more… You know, compared to a soldier?"

"No, I really don't know," I reply, getting a bit nervous with where this is headed. I've always had a bit of a problem with my self-esteem, it's never fun to have the schoolyard bully mess with it, or the chaps in High School making fun of your British accent.

"I dunno," Mission dodges giving me a final answer, "Emotional? Caring? I can't put my finger on it, but it's there."

Is that a compliment or an insult, actually? I guess I'll take whatever I can get here, so I'll roll with it. It's not quite as good as the bit of inspirational speaking Darius gave to me after the whole Sewer incident, but it's sure good to hear it all. Though, thinking back on it, that kiss was a pretty good message too, from that slave we all rescued…

Thankfully, the three of us arrive in the shop before it becomes too uncomfortable with the silence between us, since I haven't got a decent answer for Mission. This little place looks just like the game, and of course from when I was here earlier, even Kebla Yurt is working as always, and greets us happily.

"Hey there! You looking to buy some supplies, I've got a …" her voice stops when her eyes look me over, including my patched armour, which isn't perfect, anyone with a trained eye could probably see the colour mismatching and uneven distribution of the plates. "Why hello again, Stephen. Looks like you managed to burn a few holes in that armour you bought the other day?"

I chuckle, thinking back to the scrapes I barely made it out of intact. "Not my choice, Kebla. Had to fight off Rakghouls and a few massive pigs. I didn't know what I was getting into, I think," I say, gesturing at the armour slightly.

"Really?" she mutters, one of her hands touching her chin briefly, "Well, good thing you made it out of there alright, looks like that armour you bought held up pretty well."

Ah, salesmen… or saleswomen? Got to keep that product in the forefront of the spotlight, of course. I worked retail for a bit, loathed it. Felt so dirty afterwards, like I was using people to sell worthless things. Which probably wasn't that far from the truth, looking back on it.

"It would have worked a bit better if he wasn't throwing himself into battles," Mission adds lightly, and I give her my best evil-eye, but I doubt the Janitor from _Scrubs_ would be very proud of me.

"Yeah, yeah, that's not why we're here," I interrupt, and hoping to get to whatever the point is here, "We're actually in the business with you know, the season opener in the Lower City tonight."

Kebla looks surprised, probably that I'm involved with something that's normally reserved for gangs and such. "And what makes you think I know anything about that? The Sith have been asking around about that, too. Rumour has it that the whole race had to moved thanks to them."

"Don't worry," I say, smiling at her concern, "Me and my friends here are just looking to get one of those nifty big flags they sport at the start of the race. I've got a few ideas, maybe some sketches, but none of us have the materials."

Ha! I guess I haven't told you chaps about that little bit.

"Really?" Mission asks, "You're an artist?"

"You could say I'm full of surprises," I add. Epic Luke Skywalker reference for the win! Too bad I don't have a green lightsaber so anything like that to compliment my armour.

"Well," Kebla muses, looking at something underneath her desk, out of sight from my perspective, "If you can get me a design, I can get you a flag for a pretty good price."

Sweetness! So it's all up to me to make us not look like a collection of idiots. Though between two teens, a massive Wookiee and two Republic soldiers… We might be there sooner than I think. Especially if I'm involved.

"Alright," I say, "Let's get working on it, then!" Maybe that was a bit too eager, but whatever. Screw it. I take a sheet of paper, or whatever it is, from Kebla, along with an unnecessarily high-tech pen, which naturally, beeps when I take it from her hands. I play with the pen for a few seconds, even sucking on the tip, looking for thought. Too bad this is exactly how I got through art classes back home. Ah, mom, I failed art because I didn't want to do any work and played with my pen the whole time.

Mission and Zaalbar look at me expectantly, and it strikes me instantly, thinking back to the game that I first saw them in. How about another BioWare game for inspiration?

Fuck, I just lost the game.

A few strokes here, and that there might look good if I just raise the wing a bit there. Let's call it good.

"There," I proclaim, looking over my handiwork, proudly. It isn't often that I actually have that feeling, thinking back on it. I've spent too long running, avoiding work, and I've always done the minimum work, the bottom line. Time to do something worthwhile!

Zaalbar says something first, I think it might have been "wow" or "cool" but that just might be me grasping out for something. For all I know, "carpet" might have just been what he just said. Mission adds her own input, which adds to my initial idea, "Damn, that's pretty nice!"

Kebla looks over the sketch, and says, "A dragon, huh? They say they used to inhabit Taris before we made the city. Nobody really knows, though." With her holding the sheet, I can see the representation of a fiery red beast on a blue background. Hell yes!

"Yeah, let's throw a better blaster than this crap," I say, pulling out my weapon from its holster, and slamming it down on the desk, and I think a part of it might have fallen off, but I can't tell. "I can't stand this, it barely works. Took a few shots before anyone noticed anything!"

Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But it's such a piece of junk, very bottom-end, from what I can tell. Even Mission has a better weapon that I do, which is a bit troubling. If I'm going to be fighting my way through a Sith base pretty soon in order to get a few launch codes, and then again through Davik's estate to steal the _Ebon Hawk_. If I'm really lucky, I won't be too heavily involved in either of those, but who knows anymore. Everything's changing too much to tell anymore.

"Well, that's a decent enough gun," Kebla says, looking over the blaster, "but I'll throw in something nice for three hundred credits, along with that flag of yours."

"Um, er," I stammer, fumbling through my words and pockets, realising that I only have around twenty credits. This might be a really big problem! I have no money. Sod off, capitalism. Maybe that whole "redistribute the wealth" idea that Obama had might be a good idea if you're the bloke without any money.

"I've got your credits right here," Mission says, thumbing through a hefty stack of coloured money, looking pretty striking as she does so, "If that's okay with you, Stephen," she adds, raising an eyebrow.

"Did Darius give you that?" I ask, a bit taken aback by how much money she has right there, clutched in between her fingers. I wonder if they have debit cards here, but given Mission's ties to the gangs and such, I'd see where bills would be a better alternative. Honestly, after getting a job on Earth, I don't think I ever used paper money for anything more than five dollars.

"A bit, maybe," she confirms, before adding on, "also picked them off the pockets of a Black Vulkar who had _way_ too much to drink once. Amateurs, can't hold their own in a drinking contest."

Mission hands a sizeable amount of cash over, into the gleeful hands of Kebla, who slides the credits into a sort of cash drawer, giving a cool little _ding_ just like I'd expect. Much to my satisfaction, the shopkeeper bends back behind the desk, and emerges with a gold-plated blaster pistol. She silently hands it over, probably a bit cross after I called her previous merchandise crap, I think about it.

I take one of my black gloves off, and run my fingers across the surface of the weapon. It just feels that much more professional, not a cheap, low-end gun. I can't help but spin the thing around my finger, and slide it into my holster. Yeah, that was fucking cool. I look at Mission, smirking.

"Hey, I'd hate to rain on you, but the safety's off," Mission laughs, pointing at my newfound love. "Wouldn't want you to shoot yourself."

No! Fuck!

My mood switches from pleased to annoyed as I remove the new blaster, clip the safety to the "on" position, and place it back where it belongs. I'm not sure, but I think my cheeks are a shade of scarlet, judging by the heat I think is emanating from my face. Zaalbar, of course, takes the opportunity to laugh and chuckle at my misfortune. I brace myself for a pat on the back, but instead, it comes on the shoulder.

OUCH! I think my shoulder is dislocated, you dick! Sod off!

* * *

A few pointless hours were wasted in the Upper City while waiting on Kebla to make the flag for the upcoming race, during which Mission, Zaalbar and I simply wandered about, seeing whatever lowly sights there were to see up here. The Cantina was mostly empty, it wasn't late enough for any of the usual customers, including good old Sarna, to be there. The Sith are still patrolling up here, but it's not like anyone is going to put up a fuss. The nobles up here probably enjoy all the protection and brutality of the Sith.

Something was awfully troubling, though. We briefly visited the droid shop in the Upper City, where Revan gets T3-M4, in order to break into the Sith base. I was looking forward to seeing T3 before we get it, but that was the problem. The Twi'lek owner had a few droids, but there was no T3 at all. Nowhere, not even a beautiful silver panel that would eventually be fitted onto the astromech droid, or a circuit to run the droid's processors, was found. I tried my best to keep my composure, not to betray my true knowledge.

But this?

T3 is the only way in there! And it's completely gone. Don't we all need that idiotic machine to obtain the Sith's launch codes? Otherwise the stolen _Ebon Hawk_ will get bombed into dust along with all of Taris. That's a fate I'd like to avoid, the one I saw in the dream. The dream of a world burning to ashes, people's lives vanishing in an instant.

Including mine.

What a selfish way to think about all this. Not just me. Mission. Carth. Zaalbar. Revan, or Darius. The poor guy. He seems so confident in his mission, his role, but he doesn't know it's all a lie. What's going to happen to him? This isn't a game, I'm not in control of any of this, especially not a real person!

Now, with the flag wrapped up safely, in the care of Zaalbar, we all head back to our two teammates who must've spent all day learning to drive properly. Too bad there's no modding in this reality. I'd be too much like Neo, maybe stopping blaster bolts in mid-air.

Night is falling on Taris, the lack of sunlight noticeable even in the Lower City, the few desperate hints of the surface choked out, the only light is our own flashlights and the sparking, half-working lights that illuminate the dying world down here.

"How are they doing, do you know?" I ask the woman in front of me, the Bek sentry standing guard at the door, who recognises me and nods in my direction. She had to know what I mean; everyone down here seems excited over this upcoming race. Even a few people in the Upper City were whispering about it amongst themselves. People here must treat this race like Americans and their American football.

"Your friends are doing well, from what I've heard," she says, opening the door for the three of us. "We're all counting on them, you know."

I don't reply, following Mission and Zaalbar back into the Hidden Bek base. It's more important than you realise, though. Without Bastila, the Republic will fall to the Sith. And even worse, not one single person will make it off Taris alive. Canderous ought to find Darius after seeing him win the race, and the whole "get the hell of Taris" plot gets going. So basically, this is the key moment. Shatter point.

Luckily for us, both Darius and Carth seem perfectly fine, waiting for our return. They both look much better after the Undercity mission, cleaner and more relaxed it seems. Especially Darius, there's a certain cool about him that I can't help but notice, like he's completely in control. Blimey.

"Finally," Darius says, looking between the three of us, "The race is only in a few hours, we've got to head down to the track right now. Time to put my new skills to the test."

"Well, you might want to see this," I throw my own comment in, and gesture to the folded material underneath Zaalbar's thick hairy arm, "I got a feeling you might like it."

Wordlessly, the Wookiee hands over the flag to our leader, who opens it, curious as to what we've brought him. His eyes dart back and forth, taking in the image. When he sees it all, it clicks somewhere, and he grins mischievously. Looks like we've got approval.

"You can thank Stephen for that," Mission pipes in, and she walks behind Darius to admire the full image, instead of just a sketch. Carth joins her as well, taking a solid look at his handiwork. He doesn't give away his emotions with a facial expression, though; he's been in the military too long for that sort of "usual thing."

"A makeshift soldier and a painter?" The Naval Officer asks, "Looks like we picked up a bunch of multi-talented kids here, Lieutenant. Well, and Zaalbar…"

Hey! That's not cool, old geezer. "Yeah, at least _my_ talents aren't illegal," I tease, my comment more directed at Mission than any of the others, and with good reason. Sure, I might not be able to hold my own in a firefight, or hack through a computer system, but I can be the team artist. Go me.

"Those skills have sure got me out a few bad spots," the alien says, scowling slightly as she does so, "My brother taught me them when I was little."

Oh, here we go, Mission's brother Griff. There was a bloke at one school I went to who was like that. Scamming everyone and stealing. I wonder if there'll be the whole reunion on Tatooine… but Griff leaves during that. Though… Maybe I could change that, it wouldn't be that difficult.

Goodness, this is some shady territory that I just stumbled upon. If you know what's going to happen, who's going to say what, and where, doesn't that make you dangerous? Something like a god. Can I decide how this all ends up? Light side, or dark side?

No, that'll be Darius' choice eventually, before the end battle. Why am I even thinking about this? I was planning on leaving at Dantooine, right?

"All right, we're here," Darius says, pointing at a guarded doorway, by a few members of the Black Vulkars, and one Hidden Bek. With a big race, looks like we've got some odd bedfellows here, for the moment. Gotta keep the peace with the season opener.

Darius flashes some sort of pass or ID card, presumably from the Beks, and the guards step out of our way, letting us into the massive, crowded building. Inside there are these neat, wide windows that let us take a look outside, onto the twists and winding turns of the track. At least this looks quite a bit cooler than race tracks back home. Those swoop accelerator pads are here, along with a neon-light starting line. There are even a few swoop bikes on the track, and they look a lot like they did in the game. Hopefully Darius' bike doesn't explode, that was a possibility in the game.

"Wow," I gasp, turning my head away from the almost vacant racing track, and towards the sheer number of people that would have probably crashed the KotOR engine had this been the game. There's not just human racers, mechanics and spectators, but members of dozens of species. There's the obvious ones, like Twi'leks, and Ithorians, the guys with the really thin heads, but quite a few others as well. Had I known I was coming into this reality, I would have brushed up on my knowledge of Star Wars a bit. There's … Nikto, I think they're called, making up a good chunk of the Black Vulkars. Aren't the blue ones called Duros? Damn, there are too many of them!

What gets me most about all this is the sheer level of noise, both from all the people, and from the roaring of the swoop's engines- which tear through even the loudest of conversations. Earth never had this with cars, though my friend had an old sports car that might be a tenth of the volume from one swoop. It's a mighty, impressive sound. Though I might suffer permanent hearing damage from all this. There's a bit of a greasy, car smell in the car, kind of like burning gasoline, but what's worse is that it's thick enough I can taste it on the end of my tongue. Ew.

"Carth and I need to head down to the track," Darius says, looking through the crowded mob of people, "Once we find our mechanic, that is."

I probably ought to check if my suspicions are correct about exploding vehicles, or even that the race works the same way as in the game: where each racer gets heats, a number of attempts, to beat the top score on the board. Was it four tries? Four tries and you blow the hell up.

"How does this race work? I'm not one to pop down here and watch this kind of thing. Not really my style," I say, biting my lip as one of the swoops beneath us springs to life. Damn, those things couldn't possibly be quieter, could they? Like some insane race car engineer's fantasy.

"Well, normally we all take turns and race an attempt to place a nice score, and everyone tries to beat it," Darius answers. Thank goodness. That's something I actually know. Looks like things are going back in my favour, huh? "But since we've had to make the race a bit shorter, it's more of a …traditional race. Everyone at once, whoever crosses the finish first wins."

Cool… No, wait. That's not good! So, instead of having multiple chances, we've only got one! Fuck, this isn't going well at all.

"And the bike might explode if we push it too hard," Carth adds, I think he can tell I look visibly upset by all this. Wouldn't be the first time, would it? "Don't worry, Stephen, the LT's a fantastic pilot. We've got the skills and the tech to win this."

"That doesn't fill me with confidence," I admit, as Darius rushes off in pursuit of his alien mechanic, "I've just got a really bad feeling about this."

"He'll do fine. I don't think anyone else's bike can even compete with that accelerator," Mission says, butting in our brief conversation, "I helped design that piece, it'll hold… probably."

That's reassuring. Probably.

* * *

The flag parade was epic, seeing that damn dragon… I almost expected some of the Vulkar teams to have a giant, profane symbol flying across their bits of cloth.

Not twenty minutes after that, there was even less sunlight seeping through, dousing this entire setup in a blue light. Most of the racers and mechanics had left, but it was still just as crowded here. Luckily for Mission, Zaalbar, Carth and I, we all were shuttled into a smaller, private building overlooking the track- which happened to be where the gangs were keeping their "share" of the victory prize. It's like poker, everyone throws in chips, and whoever wins, gets all the goods.

Though here, it's pazaak, I guess. Too bad it isn't a card game to win Bastila, I'm actually good at that. I never played pazaak in KotOR, though. So never mind that.

Gadon was here with us, probably to oversee Darius and his other racers. Sitting across the room, though, was his old pupil Brejik, who left to join the Black Vulkars. Oh, that little prick. The story in the game that he's a guy who wanted to control everything in the Lower City. Sorry, mate, the Sith have a solution for your stupidity, it starts with "orbital bombardment."

Whatever the Beks have added to the victory pot is somewhere here, but the Vulkars have a very obvious addition: a cage, flanked by soldiers, with a human woman inside it: a slave. Disgusting, but we're going to win her freedom.

Leaving my friends behind for a moment, and still waiting for the race to start, I think it might be best for me to do a bit of investigating here. You were allowed to do that in the game, right? I walk up to the cage, finding the woman who must be Bastila, those pig-tails and all, huddled up behind bars. So, this is the mighty Jedi princess? I'm sure you'll be thankful when we all rescue you.

"My good man, the race is going to start soon," a voice tells me, and whoever it is places a dark-skinned hand on my shoulder, forcing me around to look at him. It's the all-powerful Vulkar boss, Brejik. "You might want to have a seat, and see the Vulkars crush the competition."

You cocky bastard. "I plan on watching the race today, not one that isn't ever happening," I reply, throwing his hand off my shoulder and walking away from the captured Bastila and her Vulkar captors, back to where I was sitting with the others. I smile when I realise that Brejik is still standing there, looking like an idiot, in front of the slave cage.

"What was that all about?" Carth asks, raising an eyebrow and looking at the Vulkars, "We can't afford to risk them finding out about Bastila. They just think she's a Republic officer, not a. –"

"I know, alright!" I snap back, and quickly calm down. "Sorry," I add, "I didn't mean to snap at you, Carth. I've just been a bit stressed with all this recently. I'm not used to this. Races, fights."

"Don't worry about it, kid," he says, "I've been a little on edge, too. This sort of thing isn't in OCS or basic."

Yeah, if it was, I would have signed up a long time ago. Here's your first lesson, how to survive an interdimensional excursion, and get home in one piece. Wouldn't that be nice?

"Quiet you all," Mission interrupts, "it's about to start." She clearly seems a bit annoyed, she's much more used to the Lower City culture than either of us. Feels good to not be the only odd man out, though. I turn my attention to the track, and the holographic displays in front of us, all of which are a brilliant shade of red. Yellow… Wait for it. The swoops are alive with the sound of horsepower! We're all just waiting for the final signal… Green. Green means go!

With that, they're all off, waves of dirt and dust being kicked up in their wake. Damn, that's a fast moving race, they're out of sight in a few seconds. I turn to the digital display that's located for our easy use, and it doesn't look too good. 5 kilometres to go, and Darius is only in 5th place. Damnit.

Holy crap! There's a huge explosion, consuming one of the entire bikes in an instant, and the crowd roars in the distance. I can't tell if it's rejoice, laughing, or something else. Probably some of each, knowing this lot.

I grit my teeth as two numbers gradually get closer and closer to zero: Darius' position in the race, now at 3, and the distance remaining, only 2 kilometres at this rate. Looks like both the people ahead of him are members of the Black Vulkars. This isn't going to end well.

They're coming ever closer to the finish, the pumping of their engines forcing their way into high gear ripping through the night air, moving faster than the human eye can ever hope to keep track of.

Only a few meters now, Darius and one of the Vulkars are neck to neck. Come on, Revan. You were once the Sith Lord, and before that a Jedi! If a nine-year old kid can win a dumb podrace, you sure as hell can win this!

Yes!

I leap out of my seat, along with Mission and a few of the Beks, practically screaming with happiness and joy. That was too damn close, you idiot Darius! Mission, surprisingly, grabs me and gives me a hug, not realising I look absolutely confused. In the distance, the Vulkars are scowling and pouting over their narrow defeat. Sucks to be you!

There's a few moments of joyous celebration, even a few of the Beks are dancing! It's almost like when I graduated High School, except I'm not celebrating because I'm finally done with that damned thing. The best is yet to come, we've still got to get off Taris. The sound of the crowd is getting louder and louder- mostly happiness, but it sounds like the Vulkars and their supporters are throwing a riot nearby. Thankfully though, the lawn-mower sounding swoops have all but died out, and a few of the racers have gotten out of their vehicles. I think that might be Darius down there, basking in the glory of his victory, even waving to the massive, assembled crowd. What a prick.

I turn back to take the opportunity to gloat at Brejik, whose mood was smug only minutes ago. Instead, the middle-aged adult has taken to the centre of the room, where the Duros has been running the entire event. That lovely blue guy who talks about racers hitting the swoop track and splattering all over the place seems to be ready to make an announcement. Time to say who the winner is!

"Ladies and gentlemen," the alien says in English, using some sort of communicator to spread his voice across much of the surrounding rooms and probably the whole damn Lower City. "This year's season opener was won by Darius Rayner, supported by the Hidden Beks!" He waits for applause before continuing, "And it seems like it's his first race! He must have Jedi reflex to have done that well!"

Before anyone can continue their wonderful display of supporting the winner, Brejik takes the communicator from the Duros, and practically screams hysterically into it, "Everyone! Hear me! The winning rider cheated!"

Oh great.

"He was using a prototype accelerator," the idiot continues, placing way too much emphasis on 'accelerator,' "Because of this Hidden Bek treachery, the Vulkars are withdrawing their share of the victory prize!"

The volume in here just went to mute, and the nervous Duros speaks up quickly, "Brejik, you can't do this! It goes against our most sacred traditions."

"You old fool," the Vulkar leader says, spitting on the ground in disgust, "Your traditions mean _nothing_ to me. I am the wave of the future of Taris, and nothing can stop me from selling this woman on the slave market myself."

Come on Jedi, you get your epic moment, one of only two in the whole game! This is your redeeming moment for all the bitchy act I'm sure that I'll have to tolerate while getting off Taris.

"Actually," a weak voice adds, and we all turn to see it's coming from the slave cage, "I might have something to say about that."

Oh, that voice. As annoying as Bastila could be in the game, I sure loved that Jennifer Hale voice she had. Even though the British accent was kind of fake, but it sure was attractive, too bad she didn't use the same thing in _Mass Effect_, it would have actually encouraged me to play as a Female Shepard.

A rush of invisible energy flows from her open palm, opening her cage with that awesome Force powers. One of her two guards turns in surprise to her, and she kicks him right across the face. Wow! That's impressive martial arts, I would have thought that the Jedi would only use their beloved lightsabers.

As if reading my mind, Bastila leaps out of the cage, and towards Brejik. I guess she's using the Force again, and a long lightsaber handle whizzes away from Brejik's belt, and into the Jedi's waiting hand. Why the hell would you keep that in your pocket? I almost laugh when she ignites the weapon, though, and two yellow blades of pure awesomeness form into existence.

With what might be his last words, the leader of the Black Vulkars tries to rally his followers, "Kill the Beks! Kill the Jedi! Kill them all!"

What an ass.

Around us, over twenty Vulkars whip out blasters, and Mission and Carth do the same. This is some sort of Mexican standoff, like in that one awful _Matrix_ film. Speaking of which, there might be a better way out of this, maybe like a sort of Picard thing to do…

"Wait!" I cry, keeping my gold blaster trained on one of the Vulkars, as Bastila heads towards her captors, "What has Brejik ever done for you guys? Is he worth dying for? Look at her, she's a Jedi, and being her enemy isn't going to be a good idea."

Without a single word, all but one of the Vulkars walk out, leaving their esteemed leader to die at the hands of the Jedi. The one that remained was quickly shot from several different weapons, including my new one. At least I remembered the safety, my classical fault.

"Well those bloody Vulkars ought to think twice before taking a Jedi prisoner," Bastila says, looking at the fresh corpse of the former Vulkar leader, "And as for you," she continues, looking at me, lightsaber still engaged, "If you think you can take me as a prisoner…"

"Bastila?" Carth asks, stepping from behind me, "You're alive! Finally things are looking up!"

Bastila raises an eyebrow, but keeps her voice in that same icy manner, "It's good to see you alive, Carth. Some good news after all this disasters on Taris. I apologise for my manner, earlier, Mr…?"

Well, that's more polite than I remember, but I bet it won't last very long at all.

"I'm *****, Stephen ****," I introduce myself, and put my right hand forward, hoping to shake her hand and get off to a good start. One second, two seconds… Nothing. I nervously take my hand back to my side.

Good start indeed. I don't say anything as we wait for Darius, and hopefully head back to the Upper City apartment. She's so icy.


	6. Chapter 6: Our Regional Mob Boss

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 6: Our Regional Mob Boss

**Author's Note: Alright, so last time we hfad the big swoop race, and Bastila broke out of her whole ordeal, and she doesn't get along with Stephen or the rest of the gang. Oh, and as a few people pointed out, T3 is gone! What will this mean for the escape from Taris plotline? **

**Also, keep the reviews coming guys! I took a while with the last chapter, and I love all the feedback, it keeps me writing and not putting it off until later. The more reviews the merrier! Review, please. It makes me very happy.**

**Finally, I've been forgetting about this little bit. There's been a few ventures into the Self-Insert genre here in the KotOR section. MandaloreTheUltimate974 and Some Random both have started the first person SI that we've grown to love here, while emochild123456 has a third person version going on as well.**

**Without further interruption, let the punches roll. Whatever that means.**

_Bastila Shan_, Jeremy Soule

Night has set on Taris. The trip back to the apartment should have been fun, walking about underneath the stars – there wasn't a cloud in the sky over Taris. I'm sure there might be some smog in the distance, but the rich nobles here don't want to be bothered by the image that they're actually poisoning their home. Besides, the Sith wouldn't want to put up with a bunch of Al Gore-loving hippies. Not that there's Al Gore in this dimension, though, I'm sure.

What should have been a pleasant stroll had two major problems, the first of which was the Sith. Since KotOR's relatively large maps were locked in at a single time and day, the setting of night was completely new to me here, and that the Sith have locked down the Upper City in quarantine, searching for Bastila. So after sneaking about, to avoid the Sith, we all finally made it back to the apartment. But the person the Sith were searching for was proving to be even more bothersome.

Sure, I played the game, I know all about Bastila; and Darius and Carth know her from their experiences. Even Mission and Zaalbar have apparently heard of the young Jedi Knight. But that didn't stop her from pointing out how _she_ should be in command because _she_ was a Jedi, and had that all powerful Battle Meditation. What the hell does that even have to do with anything? I can paint, but that sure doesn't make me a tactician or a lawyer. Didn't Bender in _Futurama_ say something about that? Of course, I don't chug alcohol for fuel…

Finally, back at the apartment, even though there's no "Press X to transit," damn BioWare. All this walking is getting really annoying, I hate this kind of thing. Back home, I always begged for rides and stuff, just to get out of getting a hint of exercise. Here I am now, jumping up and down dozens of floors and wandering through sewers. Irony has such a sense of humour, I guess like that whole 'humans give energy to the machines' plot in the _Matrix _films.

Mission, Zaalbar and Bastila all glance around the room, taking it in the first time. Oh, wait… I haven't _actually_ been here, either, have I? Cursing myself, I turn about, pretending to check out the tiny room, with five beds and a workbench. It's a lot like the room I found myself in when I arrived here. Metal everywhere, but they must have some sort of heating system in place, I guess, otherwise it'd be horrible and bloody freezing.

"Looks homey," I say, then realising that everyone's looking at me. Argh, I should have expected that one. Always the class goof, I guess. "I'm kidding, guys, really."

Bastila looks at me, zipping the rest of her Jedi outfit with a snapping sound. If she was scowling before, it's much worse than before. Even though she's got those nice pigtails, she's as stern as my grandmother… A lifetime with the Jedi probably does that to you, turns you all rotten and stuck-up. "This isn't the time for jokes, we need to focus on finding a way off Taris," her voice is stone cold, as if she's looking down upon me from a mile-high pedestal. Yikes.

Carth steps up to take the brunt of Bastila's assault, "Right," he says, "We haven't got much of a plan there, most of our time on Taris has been spent… Well, looking for you."

"You haven't got a plan to get off Taris?" Bastila asks, "What have you been doing all this time, you two?" Oh, shit, she's going off on the two Republic military guys, the ones that said we ought to rescue her in the first place. "Gathering a Wookiee and a bunch of children?"

"I'm not that younger than you are, miss," I point out, noticing that Mission seems pretty annoyed. She didn't take lightly to that earlier and somehow I doubt she enjoys this new boss of ours. Well, I hope she isn't the new boss, Darius seems a bit better at that job. "Besides, getting you out of that Vulkar prison wasn't exactly easy."

I'll omit the part where I get beaten up in the sewers, that isn't exactly a good fighting reputation. Though now I have a sweet, flashy gold gun. I'm the man with the golden gun! Too bad I'm no Bond.

"Save me? Is that what you were attempting to accomplish by racing in that swoop race? I managed to get out of that neural disruptor, if you remember…"

Darius cuts through our pointless debate, even standing up to Bastila. "This isn't getting us anywhere," the officer points out, "We still need to start working on a way off Taris, right now. The Sith are still looking for us."

All of us nod in agreement, and I am about to suggest trying to find some help, maybe in the Cantina or something, so hopefully we can meet up with Canderous, our favourite brutal Mandalorian, but our Jedi says something first.

"Well, now that I'm here and in charge, we can start doing things somewhat properly.-"

Wait, who put you in charge? The Council isn't here, sweetheart! You might have the whole "I'm better than all of you and your mothers put together" act down completely, but this is just taking it all way, way too far. If anything, I should be in charge, and stay nice and safe, just telling people what'll happen and how to complete their typical fetching quests. Maybe there will be some better side quests in this reality.

"Um, excuse me," Mission says, "I thought Darius was in command here? Or should we have a vote…?" Looks like we think on the same page here, even though I'm a … human, and you're not. That sounds kind of racist, now that I say it. Totally didn't mean it that way!

"No," Darius interjects, and for the first time since I've met him, he seems angry. But he isn't cross in that typical, screaming in your face kind of manner. He's quiet, which just makes it all the more terrifying. I've never seen anyone who could pull that off. "That's _not_ the way we do things. This is a military mission, so there's going to be a chain of command, at least for us."

Cool… Wait, no! That can't mean that Bastila is in charge! Why can't we all simply follow the idea that the playable character is in charge of the party at all times? That'd work a hell of a lot easier, wouldn't it? Game mechanics are surely wonderful things that ought to be implemented in the real world. Though honestly, what's real anymore? This whole adventure is drifting into some shady territory with reality.

"However," Darius continues, looking at Bastila, "Under the Republic Navy's wartime regulations, I was given command authority for this mission after the destruction of the Endar Spire. Are we all clear?"

All of us nod, except Bastila, who seems to be mulling over a series of thoughts. Probably that she just expected the new, brainwashed Revan to just to be her tool, her pawn in the Jedi's game of chess. But it's not like chess, unless both players don't know how to play chess. And they're blindfolded.

"You're right," Bastila admits, "Of course. How do you suggest we proceed? The Sith will be looking for all us, especially me. The faster we are off this planet, the better."

Yeah, no kidding. The Sith will blow us all up if we're not out of here, but it's not like I can point this out to anyone. They'd probably think I'm a Sith spy, or something. Which might be worse than if they actually knew the truth… It's hard to say anymore.

"I don't suppose you guys have a ship, that'd help things out," Mission says aloud, trying to add to our planning session. Hey, I know the answer, miss. "Even if you did, though, it'd have to be fast to get through the Sith blockade. Nobody's got a ship like that, except maybe Davik…"

"Davik?" Bastila asks, confused. Oh, that's right, she hasn't had the wondrous exposition from anyone, I guess that's not something you get as a slave. "Is he some sort of criminal leader?"

"He's got his hands all over Taris," Carth confirms Bastila's suspicions, but he's still leaning against the grey apartment wall, quite relaxed despite what just went on between all of us, "Even the Vulkars bend to Davik's will. Still, even if we had a ship right now-."

"It wouldn't make it far at all. The Sith have those auto-targeting canons, right? We get those codes, a fast ship should make it through without too much problems," I pipe in, honestly getting a bit tired of all this planning and questioning when I know the answer. There's no skip dialogue option! Rubbish, sometimes. We need to get off this doomed planet, and we're wasting too much time already.

When I'm done running through my thoughts, I realise that everyone present, even Zaalbar, has taken the job of staring at me with suspicion. Bastila and Carth especially look pretty upset, and distrustful. Uh-oh, what did I do this time? Fuck!

"And just how do you know that?" Carth asks me, his eyes narrowing, and the normal happiness in his voice is gone.

No, no, no…

"Erm, well…" I stutter, fumbling through my words, and know I realise my mistake. No average citizen would know exactly what I just said, especially given my "past" I've said thus far. "I… have a past with the Sith."

"With the Sith?" Darius asks, frowning, "And you haven't mentioned this before?"

Actually, yes, because this is a horrible cover-up that I'm pulling out of my ass. But this might be a good way for me to exploit a bit of my knowledge, especially as we escape Taris and we're forced to break into the Sith base.

Much to my surprise, as well as Mission's, judging by her gasp from behind me, Carth whips out a blaster pistol, and it's pointed at me. Oh, fuck no! Come on, this isn't happening. I didn't say something that offensive, even by Carth's betrayal-fear complex. With two Republic soldiers, one of which is completely gone insane on me, and a Jedi. So, probably only Mission and Zaalbar would help me out here.

"I'm not your enemy, Carth," I say quickly, putting my hands up in the classic surrender manner, "I didn't say anything, because…"

Come on, Stephen, you bullshitted your way through school, every test and essay was just a quick cover up that kept things going. I'm sure you can do the same here… Why wouldn't I say I "worked with the Sith" in the past…?

"Because… I knew how you all would react," I lie, biting my tongue ever so slightly, "I wasn't proud of what I did in the past, but I'm done with that now, I'm just trying to help out here."

And that, honestly, is the truth. I'm just talking about something different than they think I am. Hopefully that gets me out of the blue here.

"I don't see any malcontent from this man," Bastila tells Carth, and gently pushes his blaster so that it's not facing me, but the ground instead, "We should take his word, Carth." She looks at me, and I can't read her expression, but I think it might be disappointment. With me? Sometimes, I can't blame her.

"Yeah, Carth," Mission says, putting her hands on both my shoulders, shaking me about just a bit, "This isn't one of the Sith here, it's Stephen, he got us through the Undercity, rescued Zaalbar with us, and helped you and Darius rescue Bastila."

"He's okay," Darius assures his fellow officer, and he shoots me a look as well, "We need him if we want to get off here. And he's not a friend of the Sith."

Whew… That was dangerously close. Gotta remember to keep that in my official fake background, hopefully it doesn't come back and bite me and the ass later. Who knows, with my luck, it just might. I ought to keep quiet a bit more.

"I guess I can trust you, for now," Carth says, holstering one of his two weapons, "But I won't be betrayed again, I'll tell you that much."

Aren't you in for one hell of a surprise then, when you find out that who Darius really is… And that the Jedi Council have been pulling the wool over everyone's eyes for years. It'll be great, mate.

"It's alright, Carth," I reply, and I sigh with relief, "I know how it is, trust me on that."

There's a few minutes of silence between all of us, before the most quiet among us speaks up, but I still can't understand his manner of speech, those damn barks and growls that Wookiees use to communicate. At least I'll be free of Kashyyyk, hearing that much conversation from the Wookiees might drive me insane.

Darius replies, leaving me clueless to what was actually said by Zaalbar. "You're right, Zaalbar," the officer says, "We're not getting anywhere with this tonight, and we can start asking around tomorrow, see about getting off Taris. Besides, Zaalbar, you don't need to follow us in this mess." He turns to me and Mission, who still has her hands on my shoulders. "Neither do you two."

Huh, the whole 'volunteers only' type of mission, I guess. This sure wasn't in the game, but then again, Revan just had a custom name, face, and a list of lines to read off, completely silent too. Too bad Revan didn't have voiced lines like Shepard from _Mass Effect_. Then I would have had a much easier time with my interdimensional misadventures, at least with this. Sod off, BioWare!

I shake my head, trying to look determined instead of scared shitless, which I probably looked after having a gun pointed in my face. "I'm in this for the long run," I say, smiling "Besides, the Sith _are_ after me, might be good to get away from Taris." After my whole Sith ID stealing, Gadon Bek did say that they're after my ass.

"Zaalbar swore a life debt to you, Darius," Mission points out, "He and I aren't going anywhere, either."

"Well, now that we everything sorted out," Bastila muses, rubbing her eyes, clearly tired after the whole swoop race incident, "We need to get some rest before tomorrow."

"Sounds fine by me," I say, realising just how tired I really am. Carth nods after I say this, but he's staying quiet, probably because of his outburst from earlier. I really should apologise to him later, but it's probably too soon for him. This is turning out to be more like KotOR 2, influence and all.

Carth and Darius head off to their own bunks, the only ones that show any sign of use. One, Carth's I think, is actually well made, while Darius' is a mess – a lot like how I made my bed back on Earth. Always made my mum really cross. Zaalbar hops into one of the three remaining beds, but it's clearly not made for a massive Wookiee.

I start to head off, but it dawns on me that a pair of hands are still gripping my shoulders, and this is really awkward. Erm…

"Hey, Mission," I whisper, turning my head around to look at her, "I um, need to , you know…"

She looks at me, confused, before her eyes widen in surprise. Something else not expressed in KotOR, her skin pigment changes to a deep purple colour, for whatever reason. Hard to tell with aliens. She brings her hands to her side, and silently takes the second to last bunk. I follow her, heading for the last one.

Too bad Bastila is there, though. She's taking the outermost layer of her robes off, throwing them onto the final bunk. Well, that sure isn't a bad view of our favourite Jedi. Wait, there's nowhere for me to sleep. Hey! You bitch! Shouldn't a Jedi make the sacrifice? Their dumb tenants or something?

"Is there a reason you're watching me disrobe?" Bastila asks, turning to rub in her victory over the final bunk. Ouch, Bast, I thought maybe we were starting to be on more friendly terms. One step at a time, I guess. Though watching you do that wouldn't be that bad, you know.

"Well, I guess I'll take the floor," I mutter, and the woman in front of me nods before turning around, ignoring me again.

I hate sleeping on the floor. I scowl the whole time as I grab a blanket and sheets from Darius, and lay them over the metal floor. Even with those comforts, it's freezing, the instant I touch the metal floor there's a loud clank from my armour. This is going to be a long night.

* * *

Having a military father raise you means that when someone flips on the lights in the apartment, the sudden change means it's time to get up, right now. My eyes shoot open, and whatever people use in this reality, florescent, whatever, are visible above me. Normally I roll over, toss and turn while sleeping. But not being on a bed, as well as having your armour on whilst sleeping… Completely immobilised.

My muscles ache horribly, and I still feel exhausted, but I'm sure I've slept a decent six hours. But why do I feel so awful? Like someone ran me over with a big truck. Ugh, this is probably why I shouldn't have followed through with the idea of joining the Navy back home… Couldn't stand losing some of my luxuries.

I think I'll lay here for a few minutes, and I'm trying to convince myself that I need to fall asleep… No, today is probably going to be a big day. Hopefully, the day when we all escape Taris… Even though that means a lot of people are going to die. Innocent people. All thanks to Darth Malak and the Sith. Way to be team players, you idiots.

Since I'm hearing footsteps somewhere else in the room, I think it's about to time to get my ass out of bed, even though my bed is the floor. Speaking of having to sleep on the metal floor, the lovely lady that stole my bed seems to up and about, and fully dressed too, even a large lightsaber dangling from her waist. Why can't I have a superweapon?

The other member of our team that was an early bird, though, was Carth. Whereas Darius, Mission and Zaalbar where all still asleep, Carth had dressed, and was cleaning his weapons, somewhat aggressively, making a bit of noise doing so. Better now than never…

"Hey, Carth, can I talk to you real quick?" I ask, walking over to him. Shit, I really hope he's a bit calmer than yesterday. That was a horrible disaster that I'd like to never have happen again, please. This isn't KotOR 2, our crew is supposed to be all happy and such. Or that second _Mass Effect_ game, where Tali wants to shoot your AI friend…

"Yeah, shoot for it," Carth says, not turning away from his work.

Here goes nothing, I guess. "I just wanted to apologise for last night, I really should have told you the truth back when we first met. I just… didn't want to bring it up."

I'm better with words than I am with a blaster, that's for sure. I even dabbed in debate while in school, and a bit of martial arts on the side. So I guess in this reality, I should keep up with what I know, right? Kicking people in the face and arguing with them. That'll be a great way to make friends here.

Carth doesn't say anything at all, so I suppose that's my cue to keep going. "I know how it looks to you, mate. But I want to get off Taris, and stop the Sith, as much as you do."

"I shouldn't have taken it out on you kid," Carth admits, putting his blaster on the workbench, and looking up at me, "I've just got my reasons for not trusting people, especially not when they're with the Sith."

"I'd bet, there's a war going on. I'm sure you know, kids don't do the best things at our age," I reassure him, joking as well. I mean, it's true. Though I've never been that rebellious, really. Let's just assume I fell in with the wrong crowd here.

"Oh, do I," Carth laughs, and he has that look, as if he's recalling a very fond, old memory. "My son, Dustil, sure did a few things that I didn't exactly approve of. I caught him sneaking in late one night with a girl, Reyna I think her name was. He sure has it coming when I found out."

Oh, yeah, Dustil, Carth's long lost son. Who he thinks died when the Sith attacked his homeworld of Telos… In the game, the player could reunite Carth and Dustil, even though Dustil turns out to be hanging around with the Sith. That'll go over well, I bet. Korriban shouldn't be for a while, though, for these people at least. Count me out!

"You've got a son, Carth?" I ask innocently, trying to keep up the whole _I-don't-really-know-anything_ act. "Doesn't that make dealing with me a bit easier?"

"A bit, maybe," Carth admits, chuckling just a bit at that, "But that's in the past. Dustil is- would be a man by now."

"I'm sorry, Carth," I say quietly, and I feel really bad for bringing it up. Damn it, I always do this, "I didn't mean to-."

The older man holds up his hand, cutting me off, "Don't worry about it, it's all in the past now. It's just that when I find the man responsible… He will regret it."

Oh, yeah. Saul Karath, the Sith Admiral who had Telos bombed at the start of this war.

"Well I'm sure that _she_," I reply, nodding my head back to Bastila's general direction, "Would say something about how letting your emotions get the better of you, but… Who knows?"

Carth raises an eyebrow, and is looking over my shoulder. What? Is there as a spider? Get it off! Seriously, mate… I turn my head around to take a look, and not two feet from me, is Bastila. Hey! That isn't cool. Falling back on nervous habits, I bit my bottom lip, trying best not to look guilty, though I bet I look like the kid caught with his hand in the sweets jar.

Bastila looks at me sternly, like I'm a child who needs to be taught a very important lesson. "The ways of the Jedi should not be taken lightly," she lectures, sounding detached, "And even you would do well to take their lessons to heart."

Um. How about not?

"Well…" I say, thinking over what I could remember about the Jedi, "Don't the Jedi believe in the whole notion of no emotion attachments?" Isn't that why Anakin and Padme couldn't do anything in _Attack of the Clones_? Or maybe I'm just remembering wrong, it's hard to tell with that mess of a movie. Damn it, Lucas, I need better references about this world before someone sends me here.

"Emotions can be dangerous, even draw you to the dark side," Bastila preaches, but it just doesn't sound right, as if she's just saying a collection of words that were given to her when she was young. It's like brainwashing, indoctrination. What's the point if you don't understand anything?

"Well, the Force can't be all that," I argue, "We managed to rescue you from those Vulkars without any of it."

Score! Would you like some ice with that burn?

"Please, I was able to free myself," Bastila asserts, ignoring the idea that any of us were remotely responsible for saving here, "Did you expect to rush in, kill the Vulkars, and say 'I'm Stephen *****, and I'm here to rescue you?'"

Actually, that doesn't sound that bad. I was just thinking about how you remind me of Princess Leia. Not really, that's a terrible comparison. But good job nabbing a reference that's supposed to be four thousand years ahead of your time.

"Forget it," I mutter, it's probably better to simply drop the conversation now, rather than have to deal with this. I think I've already got a headache from dealing with the Jedi princess. At least when we finally pick up Canderous, he can put the smack-down on her ridiculous self-image. And people say _I_ have an ego? Let me find the flux capacitor so I can send them here to meet Bastila.

I spend the next few minutes looking over my own new weapon, taking in the much higher level workmanship present, from the gold plating to the actual components of the weapon. I wasn't going to field strip it or anything, mostly because I'm terrified I won't be able to put it back together, or I'll do it wrong entirely and need to ask for help. Still, the gold was certainly a nice touch, I like gold guns. Gold guns are cool.

While I was toying with this weapon, apparently Mission, Darius and Zaalbar all got up pretty quietly, two of them getting dressed; I guess the Wookiees don't need to wear anything, like dogs. But they're sentient, so are they naked? I don't know, but I probably ought to not think about this quite as much.

"Hey, you up?" Darius asks, looking at me, as I slouch over my weapon, still pretty tired. The floor is not comfortable! Maybe I can kick Bastila out of her bed on the _Ebon Hawk_… Though like ten people or more could be in the ship, given how many people could join the Exile's team in KotOR2… So maybe victory wouldn't be mine when we all get out of here.

"Yeah, I'm ready," I confirm, holstering my weapon, "Just a bit tired, I found that sleeping in your armour sucks."

"Remind me to give our Jedi the last possible rack," he says, shaking his head and looking at Bastila, rolling his eyes, "You sure have done a lot more than she has in this mission so far, Battle Meditation or no."

Well, that's reassuring. I doubt that I could chuck my lightsaber around though. I'm kind of useless in that regard.

"Yeah, well, what's our plan for today?" I ask, hoping that we're getting off Taris … Soon!

Rather than answer me with a few words, Darius pulls out a slip of paper, and I guess they use cut up trees in _Star Wars_. On it is a few words: "Canderous Ordo says to come to the Upper City Cantina."

Hell yeah! That's our cue. Time to break into the Sith base, steal some launch codes, and then steal the mighty and majestic _Ebon Hawk_ from the crime-lord Davik Kang! Damn, that involves a lot of stealing, and I'm not exactly one to encourage that sort of behaviour, sounds a lot like dark side points. All for the greater good, maybe? Bad line of thought…

"Canderous is that Mandalorian we met in the Undercity," Darius reminds me, as if I could ever forget one of the most memorable characters in KotOR! Speaking of shady morality, he's sure got one though.

"And he works for Davik, yeah, I remember," I mutter, "So we're going to listen to whatever he has to say?"

Darius nods, and walks off to inform the rest of the team about this new development.

Let's get moving!

* * *

Mission wasn't exactly easy to finally get fully awake, but finally we were headed to the cantina, as early in the morning as it was. Still, some little treat that wasn't from the game involved Zaalbar breathing into Mission's face, which sure was a hilarious experience. Though, being on the receiving side of the Wookiee's breath... Damn, I thought my dog's breath was awful, but this sure is a whole new experience.

At least Bastila didn't have to do her hair or something ridiculous, maybe even her makeup. That might be the last damn straw here. She's wearing those really odd orange Jedi robes that were her default outfit, but at least she's got the sense to hide that double-bladed yellow lightsaber.

We didn't even have to avoid the Sith patrols in the streets of the Upper City, really. Talk about not being an effective leader, they must not even told the aluminium soldiers what to look for. What's their plan, pull women over and ask them if they're Bastila? Who is running this army? It's like giving a tank to a group that aren't trained to use a tank.

Back in the Upper City Cantina… This is where my whole mess started, isn't it? Find a lonely, drunk Sith lady, steal her ID card so you can get into the Lower City… Oh, then you find out that the Sith are looking for you and that blasted card. At least we're all headed the hell of this mess of a planet.

At least the tune's different this time around, but the bass is way too much. I wasn't one to listen to rap, rock or any of that stuff. Classical mostly, so I never understood all this electronic and rave crap. I think I feel a headache coming on already, this crap is drilling into my brain, damn. I follow behind Darius, Carth and Bastila, who are leading the group around the Cantina, but of course, they stick out like a sore thumb. The two military officers remind me a lot of my dad, perfect posture and all. Bastila, though, looks really uncomfortable, keeping a clear distance away from anyone else in here. Sheltered life, dear, isn't the best.

"So, you've met this Canderous?" Mission asks me, since she and Zaalbar are next to me, instead of behind the others. "I mean, I've heard of him. Everyone has, he's almost as famous as Calo Nord…"

"Yeah," I say, "Just before you found us in the Undercity, actually. He doesn't seem with someone you'd want to trifle with though."

True enough, really. He's probably the darkest out of the whole group, except maybe HK-47. But who doesn't love the murderous assassin droid? He's hilarious, though I wouldn't want to be on his bad side. Its bad side. Droids…

"There he is," I append to my statement, seeing the muscular Mandalorian off in the distance. Greying hair, check. A sweet vest that shows off ridiculous muscles? That too. From pixels to flesh. That could be the title of my story, apparently. This would be a terrible story, though. Have everyone read about me getting my assed kicked.

"I saw you lot in the swoop race, very impressive," Canderous cuts through the drumming beat of the music, "Especially you, getting the Vulkars to run back into their holes, you're a lot better with words than a blaster."

Wait, me? Really? So maybe Canderous and I can get off to a better start now!

I walk up to Darius' area, so that I can actually converse with the others here. Hello again, future Mandalorian comrade.

"Well, what can I say? Debate classes sure come in handy," I say, smiling. Canderous nods and doesn't return the favour, but turns to all of us, instead of just me.

"The swoop racer who won the season opener," the Mandalorian says, looking Darius up and down, "You seem like you know how to get results. That's just the kind of person I'm looking for."

"What are you talking about?" Darius asks, looking a bit confused.

"I'm Canderous Ordo, we met in the Undercity, fighting those damned mutant Rakghouls." He pauses, and Darius nods when he recalls our wonderful fun in the Undercity. I wonder if he remembers that I had to wrestle a Rakghoul. That was a pain up the ass. "I work for Davik Kang and the Exchange, but lately… Davik hasn't been paying me what he promised."

"So you want to break the Sith quarantine and get off this planet?" Darius asks, and the much larger man nods. "And let me guess… you can't do it alone?"

"That's right. I need someone I know can get the job done to help me. That's where you all come in," he explains, and I can't help but feel that nagging sense that we're all being used. I should know better, really, having played all these series of events a long time ago.

"I don't think this is a good idea. Mercs like him don't have a lick of loyalty, especially not a Mandalorian" Carth cuts in, and he sounds just as suspicious as he did last night, when I nearly got banished from the group. What is this, _Survivor?_

"You got another plan, or you just jealous that you didn't think of one?" The Mandalorian spits back, laughing at Carth. "I saw you win that swoop race, Darius, and I was thinking… Anyone crazy enough to race like that … You've got to be crazy enough to break in and steal Davik's ship."

"What about those launch codes, the Sith'll shoot us down before we even leave Taris," Mission points out, frowning. She's got a point. We've got to break in there first, right? I'm honestly getting a bit confused.

With a bit of a malicious smile, Canderous pulls a datapad out of his pocket, complete with the launch codes we need. How the fuck did you get those?

As if reading my mind, Canderous answers the unspoken question, "Davik managed to get his hands on these last night, with a top of the line astromech droid. He even shipped the droid off to some watery world to sell for a nice tidy profit. Now, all we need to do steal Davik's flagship, the _Ebon Hawk_. That'll run the blockade without a problem."

"And why can't you do this yourself?" Bastila asks. Hey, that's a good point, but I don't like that idea very much.

Canderous shakes his head, "Everyone knows who I work for, and I've got a reputation to uphold. But you all… I can get you into Davik's base as new recruits for the Exchange. He'll run some background checks while you stay at his estate for a few days, that's standard procedure."

"So then we steal his ship?" I ask. Hell yeah, let's steal it and get off Taris.

"Then we steal the _Hawk_. Davik is always looking into recruiting new talent. I'm sure he wouldn't say no to all of you," our newfound ally confirms.

Bastila takes this time to speak up it seems, "I don't sense any deception from him, which is surprising. This may be exactly what we need."

There's a few moments of silence, and finally, our commander says something.

"Alright. Let's head to Davik's base."

Time to meet our local Italian mob boss!

* * *

Say what you will about the mob, and organised crime in general, but they sure do pay you nicely… Well, if you're at the top, that is. I barely remember this part of the game, mostly because I think there was a cutscene where Darth Malak says he's going to destroy the entire planet. But this is really lavish and … nice. I always figured I could have a nice place back on Earth, the computer science field does pay really well, but maybe I ought to find a mob if I really want that income.

After we all packed into Canderous' speeder, and landed in the hangar of Davik's estate, it was obvious how different this structure was from the rest of Taris. That Upper City, where I arrived, seems like the Undercity compared to this. Marble floors… and I'm sure the walls are still metal, but it doesn't look like it. I think this might be Taris' million dollar home. Why can't I have one of these?

Something else missing from the game: even the guards are wearing what must pass as suits, complete with some odd looking black bow ties. In this instance guys, bow ties are absolutely not cool. At least none of them are wearing fezzes. God, that'd be the day. This would go from a one dimensional fucking mess to a crossover disaster.

Still, one very little man that Darius and Carth had apparently seen before, as well as Mission, was Calo Nord. I was always taunted for my height back in school, around five foot four, but this guy has to be at least four feet, maybe another six inches if you squint. And he's supposed to be the best bounty hunter on Taris? In the galaxy? It's probably because nobody can see this idiot!

Calo was actually a badass in KotOR, killing some Vulkars in like an instant. You could even piss him off and get yourself killed, too. Though he is going to try and stop us from stealing the _Ebon Hawk_, that runt. Oh well, with seven of us, we ought to emerge triumphant. Especially if we're fighting a midget. Can we toss him?

Without more than a few words, we're all brought before Davik, in his "throne room." A luxurious hall, carpeted in some blue and red design, complete with an actual throne in the middle. Someone else has an ego complex in this… Who honestly puts a throne in their house? Though, if I had a palace, I'd want a throne, too I guess. I was always called a socially inept computer nerd on Earth, so I guess that fits.

Darius, Bastila, Carth, Mission and Zaalbar all walk into the massive room before I do, with Canderous behind me, hoisting a large blaster rifle on his back. Damn, that's one hell of a gun, but mine's gold, mate!

From his throne, the crime lord calls out to his Mandalorian pet. "Canderous! I see that you've brought someone with you. Most intriguing really, if I say so myself. You usually travel by yourself."

Canderous shoves past me to address his employer, but Calo Nord cuts in first. He doesn't have a very impressive voice. He's kind of disappointing, given his reputation, really.

"It's not like you to bring in a whole team of partners, Canderous," the bounty hunter sneers, "You're getting soft."

The Mandalorian whips around, and I can tell he's seriously considering pulling out a weapon, if only for threats. "You better watch yourself, Calo. You may be the newest Kath Hound in the pack, but you aren't top dog yet."

Davik steps out of his massive chair, and cuts into the two lackeys' bickering. "Enough! I won't have my top two men killing each other, that's just bad business." He turns to Darius before moving on. "Ah, I recognise you… You're the swoop rider that won the big race. Very impressive, really. And you must be the one that convinced the Vulkars to leave Brejik to meet his fate."

This again? It wasn't that hard really. Hire a bunch of assholes, I don't think they'll stay loyal to you.

"I didn't think you were interested in the swoop races," Darius says, I think he's just trying to make small talk. Yeah, we don't want to piss you off, boss man.

"Here and there," Davik admits, shrugging, "More of a casual fan than anything else. But let's get down to business. With a recommendation from Canderous, and a thorough background check, you all could become part of the Exchange."

A background check? Yeah, you look into that, you asshole. One of us is Revan, and another is from another reality. So, that might be a really insightful background check, huh? Search Stephen ******, you'll be really confused. Actually, you just might not get any results. Heh.

"We'd be honoured to join the Exchange, Mr. Kang," Darius reassures Davik, even going so far as to shake the crime lord's hand. Well, this is certainly of to a good start.

"Come, you all can see my facilities. A tour of sorts. I'm sure you will be most impressed," Davik says, walking off, and with his stride was an unspoken command: follow me.

Darius falls into step behind Davik, along with the others in our party. I've seen this place in my TV enough, so I go last, along with Canderous. I'm sure he's seen all this before as well.

From the front of the group, I think Davik has turned into a tourist guide. "Our state of the art control room can track over a thousand different Exchange operatives across Taris. Nothing gets by our organisation."

I think I'm starting to get really bored. No, wait… I'm already really bored.

"It's pretty disgusting, isn't it?" Canderous says next to me, drawing my attention away from my own private thoughts.

"What's that?"

"This place… Davik crushes everyone else. Kills them, mostly. And he lives like a king," Canderous spits, shaking his head. "There's no honour in that."

No kidding.

"What's your idea of honour?" I ask, ignoring whatever the hell Davik is talking about in front of us, "I mean, the Mandalorians tried to attack the Republic a few years ago, before this mess with the Sith."

If there's one thing I liked in the game, it sure was Mandalorians. They didn't want the usual crap from conquest, or world domination like some evil overlord.

"You aren't one of those people are you?" Canderous asks, looking a bit annoyed. "You know, the kind that hate my people for the war."

"It's hard to not be upset with the other side in war," I admit, "But I wasn't involved in any of it."

"Heh, it's difficult for a … non-Mandalorian to understand." Damn, that sounds a bit insulting, really. "We wanted to be remembered in a battle that would be sung and remembered for decades."

"But you lost," I point out. Thank goodness, KotOR 2 had a ton of information about the Mandalorian Wars. Revan and Malak went and fought in that, against the wishes of the Jedi Council, and won against the fierce Mandalorians. Then, they disappeared, and came back as Sith conquerors. Funny, really, how it all works out. The heroes became villains.

"Yeah, we lost. But the Battle of Malachor V still rings across the galaxy. People remember us, people fear us. It wasn't the Republic's fight for freedom, or armies that won the war. The Mandalorians tested themselves against the greatest man alive: Revan."

Hey. Revan is right here! But nobody knows it. Well, I do. Bastila does as well. She's just lying to all of us. Damn those Jedi, and their lying, manipulative schemes.

"The Mandalorians aren't anything but thugs, though. They're all for hire now… Even you are, Canderous."

Maybe that was a bit harsh, but it's true.

"What do you expect?" Canderous spits back at me, "Our clans were broken and scattered after the War. There's nothing for us. Working for Davik is like sticking a pick in your head. Not exactly stimulating."

Leaving the conversation behind, we follow the group into the private hangar, in which rests the _Ebon Hawk_. I've sure seen it a lot of times in KotOR, but it's not exactly overwhelming. It even looks a bit rusty. What a piece of junk…

"Ah, there she is! The _Ebon Hawk_. It's my pride and joy," Davik says, like a child in a candy store. "The fastest ship in the Outer Rim! She even has a state of the art security system installed to protect her."

Somewhere in front of me, Mission snorts quietly. Probably insulted with the idea that anything could match her talents with slicing and hacking.

We all admire our future ship for a few moments before being led to our quarters for the time being. Don't worry, _Ebon Hawk_, we'll be coming for you really soon. Hopefully before we all get bombed into oblivion.

(PB)

Following our tour of the unnecessarily lavish estate, we were all led to a couple of quarters: Darius, Carth, Canderous, Zaalbar and I were given one room, while Bastila and Mission were given another. Though Mission might not want to room with that Jedi, possibly. I got a feeling that wouldn't go over well.

Didn't they get in a fight in the game? Too much content!

A few minutes after Calo and Davik left us to our own devices, Bastila and Mission walked on over, and we began our plan to steal the _Hawk_, and manage how we could possible break into the ship without setting off a dozen alarms.

"So, Bastila, I heard the Vulkars captured you without much of a struggle," Canderous says, as the Jedi comes over to our room, "I would have thought that even a Jedi could best a few common street thugs."

Carth perks up at this, and adds his own two cent's worth. "Actually, I'd like to hear this as well. Especially given Bastila's considerable talents with Battle Meditation."

Oh, this ought to be good, really.

"There were difficult circumstances," Bastila says sternly, "And I assure you, it took a few more than a handful of Vulkars to subdue me… Though, I didn't have my lightsaber, because-."

"Wait," Carth interjects, "I thought a Jedi was supposed to be married to their lightsaber or something. How could you have possibly lost it?"

"I… it must have rolled under my seat!" Bastila says, reaching a hand into her robe, if I didn't know any better, I'd say she's just double checking that it's actually there.

"See, if there were more Jedi like Bastila in the Mandalorian Wars, my side might not have lost," Canderous laughs, elbowing me in my side. Ouch, you asshole. That fucking hurt!

"And where are your side now, Mandalorian?" Bastila taunts, looking cross, "I'd call you Davik's pet Kath hound, but at least they have enough loyalty not to turn on their masters."

"That's enough, all of you!" Darius steps in between Carth and Bastila. "You all need to cool off. We're here to get off Taris, not to kill one another."

"Lieutenant, we weren't starting anything," Carth defends himself, "Right Stephen?"

"Umm…" I stumble through my words. I hate being put on the spotlight, old man. "Yeah, it was kind of a joke."

Whereas the two men look pretty relaxed and still pleased with themselves, Bastila was red-faced and furious. She storms off, not even looking at any of us before leaving, presumably back to her room.

"Geez, someone can't take a joke," Mission mutters, shaking her head. "For the defenders of peace, you'd think the Jedi would be a bit more open."

"I'll talk to her," Darus says, following Bastila. "I want you guys to look around the estate, see if you can find the security codes to Davik's ship."

"Yeah, we can do that," I volunteer, partially because I actually know where we might be able to find those. That guy getting tortured has them, yes? So we just get in there, shoot some droids, and we'll be all good.

"Then get to it," the Republic officer commands, walking off to the following room.

I look at my fellow party members nervously, and draw my gold blaster. "Alright," I say, trying to sound more confident than I really am, "let's get to it!"

* * *

I'm actually in the lead for once, since we've slipped around the palace. Mission though, calls us to a stop, seeing just the door we're looking for.

"Hang on, guys, I got a bad feeling about this," the Twi'lek says, running a blue finger along the label of the door. "Interrogation room?"

"Yeah, Davik keeps a few prisoners for questioning," Canderous tells us, "Even some of his people, like…"

Sod off, Canderous. At least finish your sentence. It's rude to leave us all hanging like that!

"Like Davik's old pilot," the Mandalorian finishes, smirking, and he pulls out that insane weapon of his. It's huge! If he hit me over the head with that, I'd probably pass out for hours and hours on end.

I follow suit, as do the other three of us. I frown, looking at the small and pathetic firearm in my hands. I turn to Canderous, and eye his gun. "Your's is a lot bigger than mine," I mutter, looking lustfully at the weapon.

"Let's not get into that," he replies, opening the door.

Fuck you, buddy!

The instant the doors part, a pair of metallic drones swivel to face us, hovering a few feet off the ground. Oh… That's… Interesting. Armed with maybe six or seven artificial limbs, all equipped with weapons, the torture droids turn on us, getting ever closer.

Zaalbar, though, lets a mighty roar loose, and charges with his thick sword in hand. You go, guy! There's a noise just as loud from Canderous' rifle, as it rips into one of the droids, leaving massive holes in its frame. Somewhere to my side, the smell of burnt ozone lets me know that Carth and Mission have produced their own blasters, and were in the process of turning the droids to scrap.

While I ready my own gun, though, one of the droids faces me, and a limb grows red-hot. Oh, shit, didn't these things have flamethrowers? Without waiting for an answer, I bolt to the side, praying that I won't be consumed by a stream of deadly fire. That'd be a horrible way to go, I'd end up like Anakin in _Revenge of the Sith_. Being Darth Vader won't be terrible, but image what would happen if I went home like that!

There, I'm safe! The droid launches a flamethrower attack where I just was, setting a bit of the wall on fire. I flip my weapon up, and create two perfect shots onto the thing's body. Ha! I feel so proud, it's much more rewarding to defeat something like this in real life than _Call of Duty_, though in those games, you don't actually die if you lose. That's certainly a plus.

The other droid falls under Zaalbar's ruthless attack, so I holster my own weapon, and walk over to the sparkling golden light of the torture cage. Inside, though, is a human, gripping his head in pain. Damn, Davik doesn't even show up to torture his prisoners?

I look over at the control panels, where Mission punches a few buttons, and we're all rewarded when the force field vanishes. The man sighs in relief, as if a great burden has been lifted from his life. Well, I guess it has!

"Canderous?" he asks, surprised to see the Mandalorian, "What are you doing here? I can't believe Davik threw me in that torture field!"

"You're alright now," Mission speaks up, not waiting for Canderous to answer. He seems more content to just look like a bad-ass. "Just try not to get going too fast."

"I'll be okay," the ex-pilot says, stumbling out of the cage, "I just wish I had something tangible to give you all as a reward."

Zaalbar says something, which apparently everyone but Carth and I understood. Hey, speak English, man. Canderous, though, turns back to his co-worker, nodding after hearing Zaalbar speak.

"That'll be just fine, Wookiee. We're going to need the security codes to the _Ebon Hawk_," he says, looming over the much smaller figure.

"What?" he sounds shocked, "The _Hawk_? Yeah…. Sure… Just let me get out of here before Davik finds out that I'm free!"

Canderous takes something from him, and steps to the side, letting him rush out the room, and off to freedom. The Mandalorian though, seems disappointed. "It would have been easier to just kill him," he mutters.

Shaking my head, I follow the group out of the interrogation room, and stop to look out the nearby window. Davik sure knows how to pick a good view, the skyline of Taris is a beautiful sight, even with all the speeders and ships buzzing about like little flies.

Even though there is sunlight, the sun blazing in the sky, night as fallen on Taris.


	7. Chapter 7: Frying Pan

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 7: Frying Pan

**Author's Note: Cool, I love all the reviews and feedback I've been getting. Keep it up guys! You all amazed me, 85 reviews for six chapters? I absolutely love it. Seriously. Makes me a very happy bloke.**

**So, last time we messed around with the crew, Stephen nearly blew his cover, and the whole group is in Davik's estate. I think it's time to get the hell off Taris. Shall we?**

**

* * *

**

Canderous' Theme - _Klendathu Drop_, Basil Poledouris

Here I am, a million plus miles and years from home, and I actually feel pretty good about myself. This might just be a first, actually. I've gone from being idiotic, completely clueless and unarmed, to … idiotic, somewhat clueless, but I've got a damn gold blaster to fuck people around with! It doesn't quite look as amazing or powerful as Canderous' repeating weapon of death, but it sure does work. I'm even starting to hit people with it, instead of just looking like an ass, shooting all over the place without any sort of direction. What is this, _Terminator?_ Or maybe the original Star Wars movies, those Stormtroopers couldn't hit anything. How lousy.

Actually, the Governator kicked ass in _Terminator_, until some bratty little child told him he wasn't allowed to kill anyone. Doesn't that take the fun out of all this? Why can't my multidimensional travels involve me gaining a sudden bad-ass feat, so that I would be an absolute menace? Nobody would be making fun of my small little blaster, then, I think. Or if I had that massive gun that Canderous has…

Speaking of Canderous, I can't help but honestly wonder how we're actually going to get out of here. Nothing is exactly going how I'd like it- or better yet, how I planned it. Talk about a plan gone quite amiss. If there was a rule that said this little "adventure" had to follow the canon established by the KotOR game, well, I'd have to sit here and let my ass get burned up with everyone else on Taris.

Call me a coward, but that doesn't seem like a very viable or enjoyable option.

But what happens if things _do_ change? Will that rip a hole in space and time, destroying two thirds of the universe? … Fuck! At best, I could ruin the series of events that take place here, right? And then I'd just be a normal person here, not sure of what's going to happen here. Which is kind of already happening, now that I think about it. Between skipping out on the Sith base, loosing T3, at least for now… I've surely caused some changes? I wonder if I change all this… is the change contained to this reality?

Eh, these are all thoughts for someone smarter than me, I think. Fuck it. Let's just get off Taris, we're almost there. Get invited to your mob bosses' house? Got it! Have you got the codes to your escape hot-rod? Sure do! Just got to steal the damn ship next.

"Remind me not to run into flamethrower-equipped droids," I mutter, patting a bit of an ember off my sleeve. Damnit, that's pretty hot!

"Maybe you should just stay clear off all this," a firm growl comes from in front of me, from our Mandalorian compatriot, Canderous. "Considering how much good you've done already."

Hey! Sod off, Mando!

"Come on, Canderous, picking on the weakest link?" Mission comes to my defence, "So what if Stephen doesn't have the biggest gun ever? He's not a … mercenary."

Hang on; I don't need a proxy, guys, even if I am the weakest link. Goodbye. "_He's_ right here, actually. And besides, I have just as much of a right to be here as you do, really. Didn't I help get into the Vulkar base and win the swoop race?"

"It wasn't your actions that won the stupid sport, child," Canderous shakes his head, "It was just Darius, even if he's just a Republic soldier. If only he was one of us…"

Is there a reason I don't get compliments like this from a bad-ass? Or really anyone for that matter?

"Just a Republic soldier? And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Carth asks, resting a hand on one of his blasters, which are both, thankfully, secured in their holsters. I'd hate to have that guy turning his weapons on me again. My cover story was leaking all over the place, for goodness' sakes.

"You know, the cowards that hid behind civilians," the Mandalorian hisses, "Who weren't even worthy of fighting us warriors. Carth, tell me, what battles were you in? Maybe we faced against each other."

Wait… this is kind of sounding like the in the actual game. Didn't these two piss each other off? I already had to deal with Carth and Mission! God damnit, Bastila's the only one we all pick on, and get all upset, right? Though a male Revan did a pretty good job of getting that Jedi… excited, if you get my drift. That was always fairly amusing, certainly better than the whole stupid "I hate sand" dialogue, that's for sure.

Speaking of which, I guess Darius and Bastila could be an item, huh? Honestly, dating in high school was dumb and pointless. Sure, I did it once or twice. But in the end, how about not. Spare me from all that mess, and I doubt I could tolerate being around two flirting Jedi. Honestly… Though they made a good couple in the game, better than some other Star Wars pairings. Or the prize. Please, no.

I'm sure not going to meddle with people's love lives, though. I mean, the Bastila and Revan romance was pretty interesting, and it sure made the stakes of the final battle really tense, but… I can't do that, that'd be playing God. And if _Battlestar Galactica_ taught me anything, you can't play God and not have a bunch of robots try and kill you.

"I don't really want to think about the war," Carth admits, drawing me out of my thoughts, "The horrors of war are something I don't really want to relive right now."

The Mandalorian mercenary looks perplexed by that, "The horrors of war? My people _live_ for battle. Your Republic was superior, even with the Jedi, we made the Republic tremble before the end of the war."

"That's your justification? Victory through battle?" Carth shakes his head sadly, "How can you even say that? I would think after losing the war, you would have learned something."

Oh, here we go.

"And you were different? We are all warriors in war, even Stephen is." Canderous sighs. Probably tired already of having to work with Carth.

"I'm not a warrior, I'm a soldier," the Republic officer corrects Canderous, slicing a hand across the air for emphasis; "There's a difference. Soldiers protect the innocent, often from warriors. There's a reason for our service."

Well, that actually sounds pretty noble for the ever-suspicious Carth Onasi. I guess if you start serving for a good reason, and get backstabbed by another serviceman, your mentor, no less… I guess I get it… I don't like it, especially not when I've had a gun pointed in my face about it. Ugh, don't sound like Conrad Verner, you idiot.

"Nice speech," Canderous laughs, "I bet your tell yourself that every night you, just so you can get to sleep." The man stops, and turns to me, "What about you? I was getting hopeful, but are you just another of these Republic types or a gang member? You might not be able to fight, but maybe you've got your ideals right."

Wait… He had his hopes up about me? What exactly does that mean?

"Well," I mumble, trying to figure out just what to say. Why does everyone come up with something right off the fly? "I'm not really a fighting type; I think you figured that one out. Everyone else did back in the sewers. Got my ass handed to me by a giant pig and a Rakghoul. That was certainly a fun little adventure."

"Ugh," Canderous face palms, "Do you ever shut the hell up, or do you just keep talking?"

"Generally, the second one," I admit, smiling, "Debate classes back home. Always better words or art than guns. Took a bit of martial arts, though…"

"He's just grouchy," Mission comments, lightly tapping me with a fist, "Mandalorians are like that, huh?"

"Let's leave it at that," Carth says, heading up the group, heading back to the two quarters that Davik gave us for our use, while he does… Whatever the fuck he's been up to the past two hours. Hopefully not watching the base security, that'd be awful. You have to wonder though, is nobody watching security cameras. Or if they're sleeping on the job. Doesn't anyone ever see why evil overlords never succeed?

Zaalbar says something, and much to my surprise, Canderous chuckles at something he just said.  
"How do you even understand that?" I ask, sighing with a bit of frustration. I'm getting awfully tired of hearing these growls and moans. Why isn't there a universal translator in my head? Or however Paramount got us all to understand languages in Star Trek… Though Klingons could do their whole thing… Ah, ruddy hell.

"A warrior should be able to understand languages, kid," Canderous says, motioning at Zaalbar, "Especially if there were battles fought around Kashyyyk during the Great War."

I open my mouth to say something… but that doesn't quite seem like a good idea. I'd love to argue with this lot, it's really quite interesting. But that sound… Fuck! Footsteps and they really don't sound like they're friendly at all. Running, too… in our direction. Oh, great. Here come the guards, I bet. Didn't this happen in the game? Break in, and people come swarming.

I can't believe I forgot that! Damnit…

"You hear that?" Mission asks, looking behind us, obviously hearing the pounding of footsteps growing ever louder. "I don't think that's a friendly bunch we've got the devotion of."

"I bet we've gotten the attention of the guards with that firefight earlier," Carth says, frowning, "I wonder if letting that pilot go set off a silent alarm…"

Wait, is Carth, of all people, lecturing all of us about letting someone go? Wasn't he light side? Someone, quick, get me that alignment chart. All I know is that Canderous and HK are super dark side… Gah. The moral of the story is that I can't honestly depend on anything I actually know, really. Well, maybe the big picture will be okay.

"Davik's guards are a bunch of spineless slugs," Canderous snorts, pulling out his massive weapon, "You'd think a crime lord would keep the best guarding his estate, but they're not any better than those disgusting Vulkars."

Zaalbar roars, and he actually sounds pretty damn bad-ass! Like he's going to rip some arms off or something. Hopefully not in that cheesy _LEGO Star Wars_ manner, that was just awful… And I doubt we'll fall apart into bricks if we die, too.

"You heard the Wookiee," Canderous says, slapping a hand across his blaster, which echoes Zaalbar's mighty howl with a damn epic charging sound.

I exchange a quick, typical glance with Carth, and shrug. Honestly, I think the two of us have giving up trying to understand Zaalbar. Mission and Carth both pull out their own pistols, and I'm quick to follow suit. Got to use that beautiful golden gun!

Instead of continuing along with our trek through the lavish estate, all of us match Canderous' example, essentially waiting for the guards to come to us, all of us pointing our choice of weapon at the single door in front of us. Hey! This is like the opening of… _A New Hope_ or whichever one of those episodes came first… Like the Rebels waiting for the stormtroopers.

With nothing more than the sound of a sliding door, the portal in front of us whizzes open, completely vanishing. How the bloody menace do they do that? Canderous starts shooting right away, and a pair of Rodians fall to the ground, dead, but a least a dozen more of the guards are still coming through!

"Canderous?" one of the soldiers shouts, looks like one of those Twi'leks, too. "What the hell are you doing?"

I eye the Mandalorian warrior, and I notice that everyone else is too. Looks like he's been caught in the act! Instead of saying anything, Canderous raises his blaster rifle, and answers Davik's guard with a stream of deadly energy. Now, that's a badass. The Twi'lek screams in pain, gripping a steaming hole in his armour before finally collapsing. Jesus!

"Anyone else have any questions?" Canderous threatens, but it's not like he even sounds angry, more that he just wants someone to try. That would probably make his day, I'd bet. Wasn't he saying something just now about honour through victory? Let's see that.

It seems like they learned their lesson, given that they've just started shooting instead of actually trying to talk us down. Within a few moments, though, the massive form of a Wookiee runs past me, massive sword in hand. Say what you will about a walking carpet, but he sure can dig that weapon pretty deep into someone. Can they all do that? I'm starting to be very glad I'm not joining these heroes on Kashyyyk. Zaalbar's brother even had a sword!

A bolt of energy flies wide, and goes right past my face. Holy crap, if I didn't have such short hair… I might have lost some! Shrugging that off, I spin my firearm around my finger, and hold on tight. If FPS games have taught me anything, it's that cover is your best friend! I slam my back against a metal wall, feeling my teeth rattle with the vibration- all thanks to that horrible armour. I sure wouldn't like another hole in it, though.

Huh, I've never shot like this before. There's a little bit of the wall that protrudes out from the rest, so I'll just bend around the corner. Right as I do so, another shot slams into my arm, burning a hole through the armour-weave. Holy shit, that hurts. I grab my arm in pain, hissing. Not as bad as it could be, maybe I'm just getting used to being shot from glancing blows. Better than really getting hit, though.

Next to me, though, Mission's doing a hell of a job staying out of blaster fire, even blasting a few of the guards with that heavy blaster pistol she owns. Carth's busy doing the same, using his two identical holdout weapons in tandem. Even though I didn't like him in the game, he's almost at Canderous' epic level, using two guns at once.

The pain from earlier still hurts, though. I put my gun into my left hand, since my right arm's practically useless like this. I know something you don't, Davik's goons, I'm not right handed. Or left handed, for that matter. Now, that line would work if I'd actually tried using a gun with my other hand, before this. Ugh.

Before I can take another shot off, Zaalbar looks at me with a hint of desperation in his furry features. What's his problem? He says something, but I honestly don't have blue magic subtitles that translate for me. Before I can even wait for someone else to say anything, a light hum comes from the wall I've been leaning on. Huh, that's really weird. Ignoring the firefight, I glance around and … No, I made a big mistake. A really big mistake. That's no door that I've been using as cover… It's a damn door!

Before I can even get off the doorway, it slides open, and I'm falling. Fuck, I can't believe I just did that. Even worse, whenever I get back up, Canderous probably has killed all of the guards, and he'll think I _really_ suck at all this fighting act.

I twist around, so that I don't fall on my back like a turtle, but I think that's a worse idea. I hit the ground with a snapping noise, and I glance down at my arm, the one that took a little bit of a hit earlier. Why is it bent at a really odd angle? It's not supposed to be like that, right? Or did I get an Anakin-robot-arm at some point?

A wave of pain surges up my arm, and the combination of the broken bone and a bit of a blaster burn burns like hell. Oh, why the hell does this always happen to me? Mission, you should have trained my pathetic ass back before we raided a crime lord's armed base. Hey, maybe she's come to save me. That shade of blue is certainly a more welcome sight that a sneering, burly man. I roll my head around, I think I hear someone checking on me, despite the sounds of weapons firing.

It's not a Wookiee, Canderous, Carth, or my azure friend that's come to greet me. Actually, it's a very close and black boot. Alien laughter comes from above my head, or at least, I think it's alien, based on that grainy and low-pitched sound. That shoe comes crashing down, encompassing my entire vision. Hey! Don't block out the sun like that. It's gone wibbly.

* * *

Holy goodness, someone's turned the lights on their max setting. What's the point of that, and won't it ruin our environment? I don't think anyone here has those new, green light bulbs here. Maybe the design for environmentalist crap came with me from Earth. Next up, your Prius spaceship, able to make a hyperspace jump on less fuel. Probably look just as damn stupid, too.

Well, at least the lights look a bit better. Maybe it's the contacts getting a bit better, but everything's a lot less blurry. Hey, did I fall asleep in the middle of a fight? Geez, I'm not getting any better, I think I'm getting even worse.

Before I can even try and find out whatever just happened, waves and waves of pain work their way up my arm and across my face. That's when it all comes back, the confrontation with the guards, using a door as cover, and then… damn, they must have tried to flank us or something, and were lucky enough to completely catch me with my pants down, for lack of a better phrase. I glance down at the nasty burn on my right elbow, where I got a bit of a blaster wound. Lower than that, though, my arm must have broken from the fall. Don't they always tell kids not to do that sort of thing when they fall off their bikes?

Still looks really bright, so I can't help but glance up at that light. Is it getting closer? Something pulls the light back, though, and I can see what it is now. It's a damn lamp, or something. Behind it, though, is the sneering face of a balding and scarred crime syndicate leader, Davik Kang. Oh, hi. How did you get here, good sir? I peer behind him, and a smaller figure, complete with odd goggles is there too, Calo Nord. A whole party here.

"Good, you're awake," Davik sneers, lowering the intensity of that damn light, "I hope you aren't in enough pain to hear me, Stephen *****."

Oh, someone's good enough to find out what my name is. Sorry, mate, not enough to gain my interest. I'm not into aging, balding guys.

"What the hell do you want?" I spit, rolling my eyes for even more emphasis. I try to reach out and maybe hit the bloke across the face with my good arm, but something gets in the way… Hey! Restraining people in chairs is not a good way to make friends, you dick! I really cocked this up bad, at least last time I got in a mess… Darius was there.

A hand slaps across my face, and I think that might have left a bruise! If I could actually touch my cheek, I would, given how it burns like that.

"You really should address me with _sir_," Davik says, scoffing at my question. Man, it was just a question. No need to get your panties in a knot. "But that's not why you're here. Luckily, my guards managed to capture at least one of you, and it's just the person I was looking for."

"What in the name of sanity are you babbling on about? Do you just keep talking without thinking?"

"Listen up, Mr ****," the businessman says, "You must think that I'm an idiot, and that's really not good business for any of us, especially not since you were planning on joining the Exchange. We both now that's not your actual plan, is it?"

Oh.

"Maybe it isn't," I say, trying to dodge answering the question, "But that's what we all came here to do, join the Exchange."

Davik closes his eyes, and seems to pause whatever little activity was going on in his brain. I hate it when people do that. Finally, though, he continues on. "And you just happened to break into my private rooms, destroy my droids, and convince Canderous to join you?" Shit, he's practically screaming in my face, that madman. This was not in the game!

Before I can try and come up with some bullshit answer, Davik reaches for a blaster pistol, and arms the gun, practically shoving it in my face. Okay, breathe easy, Stephen… You're completely and utterly screwed. Now, you've got yet another gun in your face, and you're being interrogated by the leader of the mob.

"And what the _fuck_ is with you?" Davik asks, waving that heavy blaster of his in front of my nose, "You think I wouldn't notice that you can't hit anything? Do you just spray and pray?"

Sod off, Davik!

Despite myself, I can't help but chuckle, and reply, "Spray and pray is the way to play, mate. I'll be spraying, and you'll be praying."

Davik pulls an arm back, and lashes out again, his fist colliding with the back of my head. I blink a few times, trying to get past the bout of pain, and spit something that tastes disgusting out of my mouth onto the floor. Is that… blood? Tastes like damn metal.

"Listen to me, you runt," the man in front of me says, "I want to know who you're working for. Tell me, right now. The Sith? The Vulkars? Hutts?" He sounds a bit desperate, insane even. Does he think I'm like a spy or something?

"Who do you think I work for?" I'm trying to buy myself enough time – even with a broken arm, maybe I can try and figure a way out of here. Or Darius and the party could spring me out of this mess. Assuming that Bastila or Canderous don't convince them to simply leave me. That'd be the damn day, wouldn't it, since even right now the Sith have to be ready to bomb everything to hell and back.

"You all think you're so clever, do you?" Davik sneers, pulling his weapon back a bit, "It doesn't take a genius to find out what's going on. A Jedi, Republic soldiers… but you. There's not a single record of you anywhere, until two days ago. Who sent you?" He asks, sounding less patient with every single word.

"I haven't been sent by anyone, especially not the Sith," I tell Davik, no longer lying at all. "You've must have made some sort of mistake."

"We don't make mistakes," Calo Nord says, stepping up next to Davik. Oi, you, and what are you doing here? Bounty hunter, right?

"Calo's right, the Exchange is everywhere, Mr *****. You just … suddenly appeared on Taris…" the man stops for even more emphasis, as if he needed to do that, "And made a whole list of problems. Killing mindless Gamorreans, getting the Vulkars to leave Brejik to die, and getting the Sith on your tail. All in two days."

"I'm not a spy!" I cry, tugging against my restraints. Damnit, you arse, let me go!

"If you aren't going to say anything…" the man's voice trails off, and he holsters his weapon, stepping towards the door across the room. He nods his head in Calo's general direction, and the pair of them head out of the room. "We'll be back for you later, there are pressing concerns. If you're really with the Sith, you'll know what's going on."

Actually, I'm not with the Sith, but I do know what's going on. So I broke your logic, mate.

Calo walks out of the interrogation room, followed by Davik, whose so kind enough to turn off the lights on the way out, leaving me in darkness. I never needed a night light or anything as a kid, but this is really, really not cool. Even if someone comes in here, I won't be able to do anything. Getting off Taris sure is turning out to be quite a bit trickier than I thought.

* * *

No later than a few moments later, the door opens once more, a beam of artificial light shining back onto my eyes. Darn, I was just getting used to all the blackness. This time around, though, it's not Davik or Calo walking through to ask me more questions. The silhouette of a woman, taller than average, it looks like. I can't even tell what race or who she is, though, or what she even looks like.

"Well, aren't you in quite a bind?" she says, and there's something awfully familiar about that voice of her's. "Sorry, did I wake you? You haven't been having those nightmares, have you?"

A few footsteps, and she must be wearing heals, given the sound she's making.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, "Do you work for Davik? I was under the impression I was going to be locked up for a while, not visited."

A few more steps, and whoever this person is, I think I'm getting a better look at her. Curly hair, no idea what colour though. She looks slender, with some leather, or whatever space cow hide makes in this wacky universe. A pointy noise, but honestly, the rest of her face is completely cloaked.

"Davik won't be seeing this, no," she says, closing the door behind her, "At least _I'm_ good enough to not trip a dozen alarms and be captured by a set of guards, but that's not really the point."

"Listen, lady," I reply, tugging again, uselessly, against the restraints, "What do you want? I've had a pretty rough day already, and I don't think you want to piss me off even more, do you?"

She laughs, a very bright and pleasant sound, compared to the harsh grating of Davik's voice. Not the best sound in the world, but it sure is refreshing right now.

"Listen up, Stephen," she says, "You need to get off your horse, and understand what I'm going to tell you."

Wait, how does she know my name? I bite my lip in frustration, mulling over this puzzle, right as she closes the door behind her, leaving the two of us in endless blackness. I hold my breath, keeping track of the sound of my new companion, so that I can try and figure out where she is, and what's going on. She better not pull a knife on me.

"Okay, I'm listening," I say quietly.

Her hand runs along the side of my hand, and finds one of the restraints. "I know what you're planning on doing, after you get off this planet. And I know about… you. Where you're from."

"How the fuck do you know-." I start to say, as she whips out a razor or knife, and slices through the binds on my chair. Geez, now that's a massive relief.

"My name's Selenea," she says, ripping through the second restraint with ease, freeing me from my prison. "Selenea Amalia. I know a lot about you, even though you don't know any of that yet."

I finally get out of that damned chair, stretching my back as I do so. Feels really nice to be able to move again, Davik wasn't even good enough to take my armour off or anything – so my torso isn't the most comfortable right now. I wince as my arm moves, clearly it's still broken. I broke my nose once, but this isn't anything like that.

"I'm still confused," I admit, trying to put aside the soreness coming from my crippled mess of a right arm. Just forget about it, or at least, try to.

"I know," Selenea says, chuckling quietly. "Whatever you do, though, you have to follow him, Darius, in his search for the Star Forge, even though you know what's going to happen. And if you let people know the truth about you…"

"Are you saying I could seriously mess something up?"

"I don't know for sure, not really, but you've surely come to a few conclusions. Mental ward, interrogated by the Jedi… Not very enjoyable options, are those?"

Yeah, I sure have considered that. People _already_ think I'm near insane, telling everyone where I'm from would fuck things over for everyone, especially me.

"It doesn't matter. Not right now, that is. I had to come here, though, and put your ass in the right direction," she says, heading back for the door, opening it and bringing light back into the little pathetic room.

"Well, how do you even know anything about me, especially about…?"

"Sorry," she replies, walking back into the hallway, and I follow her. "That'd be a bit unsporting, really. We'll see each other again, Stephen. Just… Don't run off, and I ought to see you and Darius on Tatooine."

Leaving me utterly speechless, Selenea walks into the full light of the hallway, showing her tan facial features and green eyes. She confidently strolls off, while I practically limp out of the torture room. I try to keep pace with her, but since I'm wounded and clothed in a boatload of armour, I lose her. She rounds a bend, and by the time I get there, I'm all alone.

Damnit, fate, why did you have to pick me for this? And did you just give me a message in the form of a woman who knows everything about me, and won't say anything about _how_ she knows that?

The entire galaxy needs to sod off. And get that stick out of their asses.

* * *

I've been wandering about for around three or four minutes, trying to move as slowly as possible, without being caught by a random passer-by. Thank goodness I haven't tripped yet another alarm or something, or at least, the guards haven't bothered attacking an armoured, but unarmed man with a mutilated arm and I bet I've got a dozen bruises across my face. Too bad Davik stole my gold firearm.

It really is embarrassing how I fell on a door opening earlier, though. I never got a chance to really check out this place, it's a shame. I think the walls might still be metal, but they look and feel a hell of better than what was in the Upper City. If Davik wasn't one of the world's stupidest and rudest people, I'd actually feel bad for ruining this soft blue carpet. Hell, the doors here have some sort of precious material in them, I think it might be platinum. Crime does pay, kids.

"Stephen!" a voice calls out from behind me, a woman's voice. It's a bit higher pitched and joyous than Selenea, it has to be Mission!

I turn around, and smile when I see my Twi'lek friend and the rest of the group, except Bastila and Darius. Hell, even Canderous came to save me; I knew there was still some good in him. Relatively speaking.

"There you ran off to, you little idiot," Canderous drawls, shaking his head in resignation. "You really have a long way to go, especially if you're leaning on doors for cover."

I point down at my arm, "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but I won't be doing that again anytime soon."

"We saw them drag you off," Carth admits, "It took us about half an hour to find out what happened to you, though. What the hell happened to you?"

Oh, great. Can I actually tell them what honestly went on back there? Maybe the first part, but I really have no idea what went on. Someone who knows me from… somewhere… came a rescued me and ran off? No, I'm not completely insane or anything.

"They were going to take me to Davik," I lie, avoiding looking any of them in the eye; it's a hell of a lot harder to be deceptive that way. "I took an opportunity to get the frak out of there, though."

Okay, that's not entirely a lie. Just ninety-nine percent.

"You're one lucky man," Canderous says, and he stops when he sees my mangled arm, "You really ought to take a look at that mess."

Wow, you actually care? I'm so impressed and happy! Actually, on second thought, I really shouldn't sound like that, I might come across like a Doctor Cox-loving intern. Oh, dear. I don't think I'm quite feminine enough for that sort of work.

"It's not that important," I say, shaking my head. "We need to get out of here, right now. We can mess with my arm later, I think."

Everyone nods at that, and we all follow Canderous through the halls back to the quarters, where Darius and Bastila must still be located.

"At least we found you," Carth says to me after a while, looking concerned, "We also managed to disarm the security systems, so we won't have a repeat of last time again."

Oh, thank goodness for that. I really can't afford to have that happen ever, ever again. I might die, or be paralyzed at this rate. And I was worried that Zaalbar, of all things, would break my back. At this rate, I think someone else is going to do that for job instead.

"Yeah, I don't think I'd survive that, Carth," I say, frowning. "Can I ask you something?"

Carth looks a bit taken aback, but nods. "Yeah, of course. Unless you're still mad about last night, that is. Let's just try and put that behinds us."

Oh, well at least you're not all in the mood to be jumping down my throat anymore. Looks like we're making progress!

"You know, this isn't the first time something like this has happened, and I'm starting to get a bit worried. I mean, Darius said I should be fine, but that was pretty damn close, and-."

"You're pretty green, kid, but you'll pull through," Carth says, "I told you that already. Besides, even if the Mandalorian doesn't want to go back for you, I don't think I could say no to Mission over there." He looks over at her, and she's a few meters away, deep in conversation with Zaalbar.

"Wait, what?" I say, confused. Why the hell is everything so confusing today? The universe is out to get me, I think. What's odd with Mission?

"Canderous wasn't really willing to look for you, but Mission and I convinced him to do so. Mission more than me," the Republic officer tells me, smiling. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed…"

Ugh. "Noticed what?" I snap. I'm getting really damn tired of all this. Carth raises an eyebrow quizzically, and doesn't say anything else, so I figure that I'm going to switch topics to something I can still keep track of. "By the way, old guy, some of Davik's goons nicked my lovely gold gun, so, I might need to borrow one of yours."

"Really? You call me 'old guy' and want to take one of these?" he laughs, pulling one of his two weapons out its holster, and turns the deadly firearm around, so that the handle is facing me.

"Is that a yes?" I ask, only to be answered with a quiet chuckle.

"You better bring this back," the older man threatens, and he tries to look serious, which I can't imagine was easy, given his light-hearted conversation just a few moments earlier. "Otherwise, you're buying me a new one, and a drink."

I take the heavy blaster with my good arm, and that's a hell of a lot heavier than my lost weapon. I guess I won't be of much use with this, but still, it's a lot better than absolutely nothing at all.

"Sounds like a deal," I reply, putting the gun into the waistband of my pants, since the model doesn't match my now empty holster. This feels really, really awkward, so I check the safety again. If this went off… I don't think I'd honestly ever recover. I'd have to be slammed into a stupid black suit to keep me alive.

I follow everyone else, but this time, I've got my eye on every single bloody door. Nobody's pulling anything on me this time. I'll put a round or two in them first. Luckily though, doesn't look like any of that is happening this time.

* * *

"By the Force, you look awful."

Well, that's a great way to say hello, Jedi princess. If I wanted an icier reception, I would have found that queen from the Narnia movies.

"I thought I said to go and get the _Ebon Hawk_'s security codes, not break your arm and probably your nose, too," Darius says, looking me up and down. The only hint I have as to _just_ how bad I look is the tiny image of myself in Darius' eyes. As long as there's not a Weeping Angel in there, I won't freak out too badly.

"Sorry," I mutter, "I thought it'd be fun to rearrange my face, along with a good part of my arm."

Bastila rolls her eyes, and sighs dramatically. Could you honestly try harder to be a stick-up little spoiled child? You aren't even that much older than I am, for goodness sakes, and I doubt you can even drink alcohol. Assuming… that it's the exact same here.

"Do you insist on making jokes all the time? Perhaps you would fare better if you would keep your attention on one thing." The Jedi says, narrowing her eyes. Oh, please, lady.

"I didn't see you do anything, actually," I snort, clenching my jaw with anger. "Where were you back there?"

Ironically enough, Canderous laughs loudly. He and I might not see eye to eye, but we do agree on one thing.

Bastila needs to get off her damn high-chair.

"Yeah, and you're the high of maturity," I snort, trying to give Bastila my best cross look."What? You've never done anything that would compromise your esteemed position, right?"

"Of course not!" She says, as if I suggested she denounce everything she's ever believed in.

"Alright, you two," Darius cuts in, and produces an orange vial from the metal backpack he's always wearing. He tosses it to me, and I barely catch it. "You're going to need those pretty damn soon."

Even in this reality, it looks like medicine comes in those semi-opaque containers. Oh, I hate medicine, taking pills for everything possible, even for … happy time problems. Honestly, that's just really really strange.

"I said I'm alright," I argue, despite the growing amount of pain that's been going up my arm.

"They've put something in you, a pain-killer good enough so that you weren't in too much pain. With a broken arm, you'd probably be screaming like a mynock otherwise."

"Thanks," I say sarcastically, chugging down three entire pills, trying to ignore the look that Bastila is giving me from behind Darius. You little…

"You good?" Mission asks, frowning at how I just downed a few pills. What? Were these super strength or PM pills?

"Let's get the hell of this planet," our leader says, walking out the room, leaving his underlings, including me, to follow in his wake. Now, next time we get into a firefight, I'll just look for the chest-high walls, Yahtzee will be pleased.

* * *

I'm not an expert at navigating a video game map turned into an actual building, I mean, it's been years since I played KotOR, and I think those pain killers have gone to my head. I turned a corner once and nearly fell to the ground with dizziness, at least Mission caught me, I'd hate to break another arm.

Still, even if I'm a bit loopy, it's probably closer to a lot of loopy…ness. It's kind of like when I got my wisdom teeth pulled back on Earth. Despite all these problems, I think I can see which door leads right into the hangar. I'd almost be proud of myself, actually.

It says "Hangar" right above the doorway. And Davik showed us around here earlier.

So really, I guess there's not that much of a reason to be that happy.

Right before Darius opens the door with a wave of his hand, the entire building shakes, as if someone thought it'd be funny to start an earthquake. In the distance, thunder roars, and there's something just on the edge of my hearing, sounds like glass shattering. What the hell…

"What just happened?" Bastila asks, producing her signature lightsaber in one hand.

Taris is burning.

"I don't know," Darius admits, and shrugs it off, opening the door to the climatic finale of Taris. Time to steal the _Ebon Hawk_, the Millennium Falcon of KotOR. Can it do the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs? Sure, why not ten!

Inside, all of are treated to the wonderful sight of our future ship, simply sitting in her berth, ready to do her duty. Behind her, the skybox of Taris is frantic, airspeeders flying in all such directions, even some Sith fighters, by the looks of it. It's the middle of the day, but the sky is dark, and the planet glows red. Even more thunderous noises come from the distance, orbital lasers striking Taris' surface with the force of a nuclear warhead. There's the smallest hint of burning material in the air, smells really strange. Not quite like a barbeque, mostly because that's morbid.

"Damn those idiotic Sith, they're going to bring the entire planet down with them! I knew they'd turn on us sooner or later, Calo…" Davik's voice rings across the hangar, as he and Calo Nord race toward the _Hawk_, just as they did in KotOR. Davik, though, must have heard just walk in, and turns to face all of us.

"Look at this, four humans, a Wookiee and a Twi'lek," the man sneers, "Thieves in the hangar. You won't be making it out of here alive either, Canderous."

The midget bounty hunter steps forward, "I'll deal with these people myself; I've seen a few of them before. They won't be much trouble."

Well, it isn't me he's talking about, but in the game he could run into Carth and Revan.

"Well, that wasn't today though. I've gotten a bit better," Darius says, but I don't think anyone's honestly listening to him right now. Both our opponents draw their own weapons, even though the Sith are busy bombing the entire planet. Why can't we just agree to settle this later?

"You might outgun us," Calo threatens, pulling out a grenade of some sort, "But I could blow all of us to pieces with this thermal-."

Before the midget can even complete his line of thought, a few rafters and debris pieces fall from the ceiling, and the building shudders. Shit, we must have got hit by the Sith! Blimey, we're going to get murdered.

"Jesus!" I exclaim, but Darius points at the newly formed pile of wreckage, with two human bodies still underneath: Davik and Calo. Holy shit, someone's watching out for us. Or we're really lucky, but I don't believe in anything like that.

"We're not going to save them, are we?" Mission asks, yelling to be heard over the roaring of the weapons fire. "I mean…"

"They sure weren't going to do the same for us," Canderous points out, shrugging. "We don't exactly have a lot of time, either."

"Let's get to the ship!" Darius yells, and he sprints for the open boarding ramp, and we all follow.

I can't even feel my broken arm right now, whatever meds they have in this reality are really doing their job well, but I'm going to guess that they're screwing with everything else too. I'm too far behind everyone else, even Zaalbar's head of me, for fuck's sake. The sound of Taris falling to the Sith, and the _Hawk's_ engines flaring to life sound so far off, a distant memory or echo of something that's actually happening.

I'm a few meters away, and everyone else has ran inside into the safety of our brand new smuggling ship. The craft lifts itself off the ground, hovering a few inches over the tiled floor. Hey, you assholes, you're not leaving without me now! I might be on some serious drugs, but I'm pretty sure that the ship is actually moving away from me, not towards me. Hell, it's just a bit off the edge of the building, stationary over the skyscrapers that once made up Taris.

Canderous emerges from the still open hatch at the base of the ship, and I think he's calling out to me. Sounds like he's telling me to jump and even if he isn't, I'm screwed beyond belief – I have to jump anyways, you idiots moved the ship already!

So here I am, a trans-dimensional traveller, but not really the cool kind like the Doctor, about to leap over a decent sized gap – like in the London subway. Except I'm going over a burning city, pumped full of painkillers, weighed down by some armour and with a broken arm.

Geronimo!

**Yeah, a lot of shit happens, which is why I'm putting an author's note here. This chapter was weird for me, I dunno why. Anyways, about Selenea – we will be seeing more of her, who the hell she is, and how she knows shit. Just before I get the WTF comments. Cause it is a BIG WTF in the story, right? All part of the overreaching plot, I assure you. **

**Review? I'll give you a biscuit, or cookie, whatever you call it.**


	8. Chapter 8: Training

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 8: Training

**Author's Note: So, we're almost off Taris, finally. Got some illusive hints and such about Stephen's purpose in the KotOR universe. Time to continue on, mates! **

**So, yeah, sorry about the wait on this one. I had such little time (I had a Calculus exam, a paper in English, a computer science project and a ton of overall homework all in the same week) to actually work on this. But yeah, here we are. Hope you enjoy it. Review please! This makes my day, I'm exceptionally happy that I'm up to one hundred bloody reviews! **

**Finally, I've started my own Deviantart page, if anyone cares. The name is CPunchMaster. I've been messing with some digital artwork, and the only thing I've published is a digital work. But yeah, just saying. Onto fiction writings!**

_TIE Fighter Attack_, John Williams

I really think I'm going to die.

Well, I've always known I'm going to die, it's one of those cynical little things that hangs over your entire life. It's why some people made religion, I guess. But I always figured I'd live a boring, normal life, make a bit of money, and die with grandchildren or something awful. Probably, though, I'd just be an old man, yelling at kids for stepping on my grass.

Sure doesn't look like that right now. More like that I'll never get to use that classic line about whippersnappers. And that might be the most disappointing thing about this. Well, maybe not exactly.

Painkillers don't bode well when you've broken into a full sprint and leapt for the only safe place in the whole world, especially not when you've barely worked out in your whole life. Only a good metabolism keeps me from looking like Lee Adama during that stupid New Caprica stuff.

I don't like heights, not a single bit, and being over the burning surface of planet, nothing beneath me to save my life, make my stomach sick. Don't look down, you pillock.

Without much of a warning, the wind is knocked out of me, leaving me gasping for breath like a dog. The wind picks up quickly, and I realise that I'm lying on the tiny loading ramp of the _Ebon Hawk_, not much bigger than a single bed, with those two hydraulic tubes on either side of me, I guess to lower and raise the ramp, that's not something I ever saw in the game. I grab onto one desperately, given that my lower body is still hanging off the ramp, dangling free. My hand slips on the tube, it's bloody greasy. Technology isn't much different in some ways.

Okay, I might make it out of here alive, I'm just looking a bit like Luke Skywalker in_ Empire Strikes Back_. I let out a deep sigh of relief, filling my empty lungs with beautiful oxygen once more. Oh, that's such a wonderful feeling. I don't even care if I'm making the mistake of taking quick short breaths, as long as I can breathe, I'm more than happy.

A few precious seconds pass, and I force myself to crawl up the ramp, the sound of metal scrapping – my armour against the deck – fills my ears, even over the noise of the city burning, and the roar of the _Hawk's_ engines. I swing my legs onto the ramp, and push myself into a standing position, making a dash into the actual interior of the ship. It's crazy, everything looks just like it did in the game, even the workbench is tucked against the wall, the lights turned low enough to be a bit annoying, and the curves of the dark grey halls are in the same manner that reminds you of Han Solo's classic ship.

I try to focus in on the details of the _Hawk's_ garage, but everything's spinning just a bit. I really don't think that the jump was the best thing in the world for me, and I can't really feel my arm. I got to try and shrug it off, though, we're not quite out of this yet. I mean, I don't have anything to do, but we still could get shot down by the Sith fighters. Time for that awful turret mini-game.

I slowly walk through the ship's main hold, doing my best to avoid the hologram table in the centre of the room, passing Canderous on the way to the cockpit. Might as well take a good look at what's going on, I guess.

"Hey! Shouldn't you head to the infirmary?" Mission cries out from the right side of the ship, crossing her arms in annoyance when she sees me.

I don't say anything, but make a cross face, and wave my useless arm to wave her concern off. Whoever built this ship, though, really loves the circular based hallways, the entire entrance into the cockpit is like a freaking cylinder, but I can't really judge, I'm not exactly a ship designer or anything.

It's sort of surprising, but I should be used to it by now, Carth and Bastila are exactly where they're supposed to be, in the two cockpit seats, the massive window in front of them. In front of us, the clouds are growing ever closer, the blue in the skies starting to fade into the blackness of space. The final frontier awaits.

I lean against the bulkhead opposite the galaxy map, a big computer that was where the player decides where they want to go next. I can't exactly keep track of all the data on it right now, it's a bit confusing, but it looks like it's monitoring our distance from the surface and our ascent into space. Even though I might be pretty ignorant, I think all the flashing red lights aren't very good.

Bastila's busy fiddling with some of her own controls, making a lot of noise doing so. She looks over her should at Darius, who has been standing behind her and Carth, one arm on the Republic soldier's chair.

"We should plot a course for Dantooine," the Jedi suggests to our leader, "There's a Jedi Enclave there where we could find refuge."

Before he makes a single move, though, Carth cuts in, and he looks taken aback by an alarm on his display. Several more lights switch from blue to red, along with a few indicators on the display near me.

"We've got incoming fighters," the man warns us, looking at Darius as well. "You're going to need to get in the gun turrets and take those ships out – otherwise we won't be making it out of here at all."

Darius nods, and bolts past me through the _Ebon Hawk's _main hold, even jumping over that blasted hologram table, and I see him race up the ladder near the medical bay. Doesn't T3 go up there in the start of the second KotOR game? Maybe it's a bit different than I'm thinking; I'll have to check it out later. Assuming that we make it out of here at all, with a Sith fighter squad hot on our tail.

I whip around, grabbing onto the seat in front of me, even if Bastila is sitting right there. The science-fiction shows are really deceiving, though, since Carth slams on the "brakes," I nearly fly into Bastia's chair, or possibly out through the viewport in front of us. One of those Sith fighters whizzes overhead, and unfolds its triangular wings before swooping around, blaster fire flowing from the fighter's weapons.

Four more of the fighter squad follow their leader, and our ship shudders horribly under fire, just as the last wisps of blue skies vanish. We've broken free of the planet's atmosphere, as best I understand it.

"Hang on, this is going to be rough," Carth mutters, pulling two of the control sticks off to the left side. Before I can even hold onto anything else besides the headrest of the seat, the entire ship rolls over… It's a barrel roll!

Just when I was thinking I wasn't going to die, I really think I'm going to be ill now.

The _Hawk_ swerves again, leaving two of the five fighters directly in front of us, both of them starting to make another pass over our hull. Before I can even really start freaking out and start trying to pull a backseat driving move, both fighter craft vanish under a heavy stream of weapon's fire, originating from just above our heads. Looks like Darius is good with that turret of his.

With the last three fighters on our tail, Carth continues our climb out of Taris' gravity, and we're all forced to sit through even more evasive maneuverers. The small form of the Sith warships in orbit aren't tiny specs in the distance anymore, they're dangerously close, enough that we can all see their weapons, which are still locked onto the surface of Taris, laying waste to an entire world, along with its population.

Our new ship, even if it is stolen, flies really damn close to one of the Sith capital ships, and the sound of the turret firing elsewhere in the ship fills the room. The few red lights on Carth and Bastila's boards vanish, except a very large on a circular display, must be a radar or sonar, or something- and the big mark is the Sith ship, maybe even the one Malak is on.

"Alright, we're clear, hyperspace plot has been calculated." Carth reports, looking at the co-pilot's station, where Bastila nods a quick confirmation. "Punch it."

I can't help but smirk as the Jedi pulls a decently sized switch towards her, and the engine behind us hums loudly, almost obnoxiously, but if speed is found there, nobody is going to care if there's noise pollution. Unlike those Prius cars.

One of the most fantastic sights greets me outside the ship, though, the stars melting into endless lines, forming a tunnel through space itself, glowing with blue energy and power. Everything around us, in front of us, it all disappears, consumed by the tunnel, which rapidly rotates around a centre of axis. Huh, so that's hyperspace for you. I let out a breath I barely even realised I'm holding. The danger feels so real, even though I'm in a spaceship. One hull breach from death, though.

A _thump_ echoes through the ship behind us, and I turn around, only to find that Darius jumped right down the ladder, that show off. He wipes a bit of sweat off his brow, and pats his shirt back into place. For having just shot down a group of fighters, he looks pretty relaxed otherwise.

"Well, that wasn't too hard," Darius says once he's in the cockpit with the rest of us, but he's specifically looking at Bastila. "So, you still doubt my abilities First the Vulkars, now the Sith?"

Bastila fiddles with a few controls, and after a few seconds, all the lights on her side of the cockpit blink out of existence. She peels herself from her station, and looks at Darius. "I never doubted your abilities, just your humility." She's trying to sound serious, but unless I'm mistaken, there's just a hint of teasing in there. Whoa. Did that just happen? "Aside from that, though, it'll take us hours before we reach Dantooine."

Not looking away from his own work, Carth pipes in, "Are you sure about Dantooine? We need to keep moving, especially after Taris."

"We can't keep running, Malak and the Sith will find us eventually, we need a place to plan, recuperate," Bastila retorts, "The Academy here is a place of mental and spiritual healing, and the most powerful members of the Order are here. Malak wouldn't dream of attacking Dantooine."

Oh, the irony, my Jedi friend.

"We could all do with some rest," Darius admits, looking over his shoulder, "Especially Mission. At Dantooine, we should be able to figure out what our next move is."

"It isn't easy to witness the destruction of a planet, especially not your own," Carth frowns, and I don't want to say anything after that, and it sounds like neither of the other two people in the cockpit want to either, which just leaves us with an awkward silence. Before I can even stop myself, I'm biting my bottom lip again.

"I'll talk to her," I say, shrugging. Sure don't see anyone else leaping up to do it, and Carth's right, seeing Taris be razed to the ground sure can't be a good sight at all.

I walk back out of the cockpit, and not long after I do, I hear Darius and Bastila leave as well, probably off to have that shared dream of theirs. I pass by the swoop bike garage, where Canderous is calibrating one of his weapons. I don't say anything, just nod politely. He doesn't return the favour. As I head to the starboard crew area, a little rectangular room near the garage and the loading ramp, I can't help but notice some deep black burn marks along the ramp. I look down at my silver armour, only to find matching burns.

I ruined the ship.

I head into the starboard crew section, which has a few beds lined up on each side. Mission, though, is just sitting in one of the racks, head in her hands – not crying, just that look when someone's thinking. And not the good, happy manner. Normally, Mission seems pretty upbeat, more than the rest of us, but now, that might just be completely turned around. Still, she's not crying. Where's Zaalbar, though? I really shouldn't be comforting someone I've only seen in a videogame.

"Hey," I mutter, thinking about making a beeline out of the room, and just leaving Mission with her thoughts. "How are you doing?"

_How are you doing?_ Is that the worst start of a conversation possible? Clichéd, yeah.

Mission looks up at me, and shrugs slightly. "I don't know, I was just thinking about Taris. It's incredible; all those people are just… gone. The Beks, even the Vulkars and the Sith. I mean, I know a lot of those people, too. The Beks were as close to family as I have now."

I sit down next to her, and wait for a few moments before saying anything. "Didn't you mention your brother earlier? Where's he?" I feel awful, she's so miserable and I'm just trying some way to use whatever information to make things just a bit better.

"Griff," Mission sighs, "He left me on Taris when I was still a kid, I had to look after myself, after he left for that tramp Lena. She pretty much bankrupted him, he had to leave the planet."

"So, he's just out there, somewhere," I say, trying to put a hopeful spin on the story, "It's a big galaxy, anything could happen. And you've got Zaalbar, too."

"Yeah," Mission says, "I guess. I'm not saying I can't go on or anything, Stephen. It's just hard, you know. Zaalbar doesn't exactly say much, and I've been without Griff for years. As for Taris, it'll just take time."

"I guarantee it, Mission, Malak and the Sith are going to pay for the crimes they've committed," I assure her.

"It's only a matter of time, the Jedi got Revan, and I'm sure Malak won't be that far behind," she admits, putting on a weak smile, "Still, it's not comforting. What's the point of revenge, it doesn't bring anyone back, right?"

"I guess not," I admit, "Still, I've been around enough people back home that I've wanted to knock around when they start to really grind my gears. I can't imagine you've been free of that awful-ness."

"Oh, yeah," she laughs, "There was the time I met Zaalbar, where the Vulkars pulled a blaster on me, after I tried to pick the pockets of one of them, even though he'd had _way_ too much to drink. Big Z nearly ripped his arms off, but I wanted to floor that sick slime."

I chuckle, that's a good story, even if I remember hearing a version of it before.

"What about you? You haven't told any of us any stories, have you?" Mission asks, looking much cheerful now. "Just that you're from Coruscant, and that sounds a lot more appealing that talking about Taris."

"Well," I say, thinking about how to phrase anything from my past, "I grew up on Coruscant, moved around when I was a teenager. That's why I've still got the accent, but I mean, I didn't do very much in my life. Kind of pointless really, things really got strange when I got to Taris though."

"Pointless?"

"I just didn't do very much, just played video games, and dealt with my family, I guess. I just never realised it until now, though…"

"Realised what?"

I sigh deeply, my chest burning just a bit as I do so. "I'm just missing my family a bit," I admit, "It feels like forever since I've seen them."

It's only been a few days, I guess. Trying to get off Taris was so fast-paced, just knowing that the Sith were going to get rid of everything, I couldn't focus on anything but my own survival. Selfish, actually, looking back on it. Nothing I can do now, I guess. Doesn't stop me from feeling awful about it. And what about that slave in the Vulkar base, she was so happy … and what did I actually achieve?

"You and me both," Mission mutters, "But we'll be fine, when this is all over, and the Sith finally get whatever's coming to them."

"You think it'll all turn out that well?" I ask, frowning. Darius could easily tip to the bad ending of the game, and we'll either be killed or part of the infinite empire of the Sith.

"You can always hope," the Twi'lek says, pausing for a bit, "Thanks for coming by, though, and talking. Don't worry about me."

I nod, and pull myself off the comfort of the bunk, leaving Mission to her own thoughts. There's really nothing I can say that'd make it better, I guess. I head out of the room, back into the main hold of the ship, where Bastila and Darius are having their own conversation, and a massive holographic sphere is projected right off the top of the table. A planet of some sorts?

"It's a tranquil planet like few in the galaxy," Bastila's saying, "It's a perfect place for the Jedi Enclave."

"Doesn't Malak know about this? It just doesn't seem as safe as you're saying."

"Not even he would dream of attacking this place, the Jedi are too powerful of a force to be reckoned with."

"I guess this'll do for now," Darius says, "but if you remember, missy, Malak was damn keen to find you – enough to destroy the entire planet of Taris."

"You have to trust me and the wisdom of the Council…" the woman turns to face me, realising that I've standing there for a minute or so. "How's Mission coping?"

I rub my eyes just a bit, feeling the fatigue after Taris catch up with me finally. "She's okay for right now, at least. I'd say we all need rest after Taris, though."

"She's stronger than she looks," Darius says, "But you're right. It can't have been easy for any of us, except maybe Canderous."

"The Sith are mad enough to wipe out an entire planet, including their own men…" Bastila says, scratching her chin, looking upset, "I just don't know anymore. I need to think this over, and inform the Council about what has transpired here."

"I don't know about you two," Darius yawns, "But I'm headed off to a rack, or something. It's been a long day, and I'm tired."

Bastila and I nod, and the Jedi stares at the planet projected over the table, eventually turning the device off, the orb vanishing into thin air. If I had to guess, I'd say that was Dantooine she was just looking at, or maybe what's left of Taris.

I start to head off to the same crew cabin that Darius has, but Bastila coughs slightly, in that same manner that everyone does when they're trying to get your attention.

"Before you go, Stephen, I just wanted to…" Bastila stops, rapping her fingers against the table. I raise an eyebrow quizzically, and she stops, regaining her composure. "Right. So I'd like to apologise for my attitude back on Taris. That wasn't justified, and you've shown yourself to be an adequate member of our team so far."

"Thanks," I say, feeling a bit better about myself, "I'm just not that experienced. I haven't seen war, like you have."

Bastila frowns, and I see her shift her focus from me to the port crew cabin, before her eyes settle on me once more. "The Jedi don't believe that war is the right answer, but sometimes it has to be done. The Sith spread across the galaxy, and they won't be stopped without the Jedi. The evil that they've caused…"

"Like Taris," I say, sighing. When playing the game, I never really thought about how many people died there, but now, it hits me like a brick to the gut. I could've done something to save them, couldn't I? "Don't you think there's something we could have done back there?"

"There were millions dying, and far more suffering, but had we delayed any, we would have joined them, and without my Battle Meditation there's no guarantee the Republic will win this war."

"I guess," I mutter, and I check to make sure there's nobody behind me or in the way of the port dormitory, "I'm going to bed as well. Don't let me sleep to late when we get there."

The woman in front of me just nods, and before I even turn around to head to my own bed, she's heading off to the starboard side, maybe she wants some privacy from the man side of the ship.

I head into a mirror image of the room Mission was in, the main difference being the sound of Darius snoring ever so slightly over the hum of the hyperspace engines. Trying my best to ignore the man, I launch myself onto a bed, and in a few moments, it seems to swallow me whole – a relaxing sheet after a day of hell. Even the sounds of the engine just seem to blend into the background, nothing can stop me from taking a few hours of priceless sleep.

* * *

I never was a deep sleeper; I rarely even needed an alarm clock to wake up on time. When I woke up, feeling decent at least, the lack of the engine noise caught my attention right away- that means that we must have landed. I start to push myself out of bed, the weight of my armour weighing down on me, when I nearly yelp in pain. My painkillers wore off.

Next to me, a sudden, deep gasp of breath comes from Darius' general area. I glance over, and see him, pale as a ghost, with his blanket and sheets wrapped around him –he's been tossing in his sleep. Hell, I've even done that recently, back on Taris. A few dots of sweat are still all over his face. This wasn't in the game, you just saw your character toss and turn a few times while watching the vision about Revan and Malak.

Leaving Darius to toss and turn a bit more, I slowly head into the main hold, where Bastila seems to be – just as she was a few hours ago. Her hair isn't in the usual pigtail-scheme, it's more of a wild mess, and she's busy trying to make it look a bit better. Might be a lost cause though, by the look of it.

"There you are," the Jedi declares, turning from her work and looking at me, "I need a minute of your time before I make my report to the Jedi Council."

"Umm, okay," I say, confused, even more so when Bastila pushes me towards the medical bay, located right between the engine room and the main hold.

"If you could _please_ try and hold still…" she says, grabbing my arm, ignoring my sudden gasp in pain. That ruddy hurt.

"Can't you just use your magical Force or something here?" I ask, biting my lip as the Jedi grabs a white sheet from the medical bay, wrapping it around my arm and neck. "Now that I'm thinking about that, why didn't you use that so I didn't have to jump onto the ship back on Taris?"

"It doesn't work that way," Bastila says, her attention dedicated on wrapping my arm into a makeshift sling, "Telekinesis is incredibly difficult, not even some of the masters could lift an object of your size. I've mostly spent most of my time training in Battle Meditation, instead of other areas of study."

Right when she finishes, she yanks a tie closed, finishing her work.

"Try not to move that too quickly in the next week or so. You'll need to inject Kolto in the meantime, however."

"Kolto? What's that-"

Before I can finish my sentence, something stabs my arm, and I find that Bastila's stuck a needle there, pumping a healthy amount of chemicals into my body.

"Now," the Jedi says, throwing the empty syregnie away, "I need to retire and meet with the Council. Let Darius know that he is to join me when he wakes up."

Still wincing in pain, I nod, while biting my lip. Someone lacks a decent bedside manner.

* * *

After about half an hour, Canderous emerged from the garage, nobody knows exactly what he was doing back there, but since there's a workbench, I'd have to guess that he's been cleaning or enhancing his weapon or something. From what the player actually sees of the Mandalorians, they live for battle, and I doubt Canderous is any exception. What else could he have been doing, playing with our captured swoop bike that came with the ship?

Mission's still resting, though, leaving Carth and I to mill around the outside of the ship- in the rather large Jedi Enclave landing bay. A few of those Darth Maul-looking probe droids wander around our ship, which I'm not entirely sure is alright. Coming from the bottom of the hull are about a dozen jets, spewing steam and something that smells oddly like petrol. My friend's Porsche did something like that once, and that wasn't exactly a cheap fix. The _Ebon Hawk_ really doesn't belong in the shop twelve months out of the year.

After seeing Taris get burned all to hell, I've got to say, the setting here on this backwater farm planet is surely a pleasant sight. Blue skies, with a giant flying stingray looking thing in the distance, a few clouds to break up the sheet of blue… Damn, there's even two moons set in the skybox, they look a lot like Luna, Earth's moon. The weather, though, is perfect. Around twenty degrees, I'd say, and inside the open-air hangar, there isn't more trace of wind to _ruin_ anything. Reminds me of home.

The sound of footsteps draws me out of my own private thoughts, so I sigh, turning back to the _Ebon Hawk_'s ramp, seeing Darius walk out, much paler than normal, squinting as his eyes adjust to the lighting here on Dantooine. He runs a hand over to his shoulder, rubbing it nervously. When he sees me, he picks up the pace, running over to me, and Carth, whose a few feet away.

"Hey, Stephen, have you seen Bastila?" the man says, looking pretty concerned.

"She said she was going to speak with the Jedi Council…" Damn, he doesn't look good at all, even has bloodshot eyes to top the image off, "You alright?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Lieutenant," Carth says from behind me, "This day's getting stranger every minute. Bastila came out of the _Hawk_ looking the same way."

As if on command, the young Jedi races up from inside the Enclave, breathing heavily from running to the _Ebon Hawk_.

"I've spoken briefly with the Jedi Council; they've requested an audience with you, Darius."

"An audience with the Jedi Council? Isn't that unusual from someone who's not even a Jedi? What's going on Bastila?"

The woman shakes her head, waving Carth and I off, "I'm sorry, but I'm not permitted to tell you right now. You just have to trust me on this."

"I don't like left being out of the loop," Carth says, frowning, "But I guess we'll do it your way for now."

"Come on," Bastila says, motion towards the interior of the Jedi Enclave, making it clear that Darius was to follow her.

As the two run off to meet the Jedi Council, I turn to Carth, who looks bewildered, and a bit cross. Just to play the part, I roll my eyes, and shrug just a bit. When Carth kind of repeats the gesture, I follow the trail of Bastila and Darius, struggling to remember how this place is actually set up in the game. Judging by the footsteps, I'd say Carth's on my tail.

"And if this is a joke, it's really in poor taste," a voice lectures from around the corner, and the noise becomes more prominent as I find myself in a nice little clearing, the image complete with a tree in the middle of the "room." At least it isn't white and dead, waiting for the rightful heir to show up.

"I assure you, I'm not a Jedi. Excuse me, I have a meeting with the Council," replies Darius' voice, and I see him pushing past a stern-faced Jedi woman, who scowls as he marches on to the Council chambers. Oh, that one.

"I wasn't aware we were playing host to a collection of soldiers and misfits," the woman says, looking annoyed as she sees me only a few feet away, "Even if you came with Bastila…"

"Sorry," I reply, not honest about it at all, "Not really my choice, actually. I've been sort of dragged along in this whole adventure-thing."

"I can see that," she sneers, staring down at my limp and tied arm, "Well, make yourself comfortable for the time being."

Oh, you little bitch…

"I will do so, that's for sure," I chuckle, taking a seat on the stone around the Jedi's centre tree. I'd hate to have to stand this whole time, waiting for Darius to get out of his meeting, though, I guess I know the general facts about what's going on. Probably the only reason I'm not as pissed off as Carth is right now, who opts to stand instead of take a seat with me. He's got one hand next to a holstered blaster, and suddenly he turns to look at me again.

"Are you done with that blaster I let you borrow?"

Oh, sod off.

"Well," I stammer, clamping down on my bottom lip, and wringing my lands together, "I sort of, well… threw it, you know, when I had to jump…"

He doesn't say anything, but his other hand is fingering the empty holster on his left side.

* * *

There are only so many things to do when you're waiting for someone to get out of a top-secret meeting with the Jedi Council. You could try and speculate what is going on "behind closed doors," but that doesn't exactly work when you already know what's _supposed _to happen back there. You could also try and talk to the nearby people, provided any of them wanted to talk. That leaves me with one option, one awfully nasty alternative.

I'm bored out of my mind. Bastila wasn't kidding about the peaceful atmosphere here. I'm going to lose my sanity to the horrors of boredom. Just another reason to drag me off to a white, padded cell.

An eternity or two passes before Darius finally walks out of the sodding Council room, without Bastila this time. He seems more relaxed, but from little I can tell about him, he also seems considerably more stressed, or tired.

"So, what's going on?" Carth asks right away, practically the instant Darius walks over to us, his voice breaking the silence that must have lasted hours.

"Apparently… The Jedi are training me as one of them, all because of some dream Bastila and I shared."

Carth double-takes, and raises an eyebrow. "As a Jedi? And… what dream?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Darius replies, sighing heavily, "The Council are masters of being as vague as possible. From what it sounds like… the _vision_," he even stops to put air quotes around the last word, "could be the key to stopping Malak and the Sith."

"You don't sound thrilled about it," I admit, "I mean, the Jedi get those wicked lightsabers!"

Darius scoffs, "I'm a soldier, Stephen, this kind of crap is normally above my pay grade."

"Well, whatever their reasons, it looks like we'll be staying on Dantooine for a while," Carth points out.

Darius nods, and heads off to the _Ebon Hawk_, leaving Carth and I alone in the courtyard once more.

"A while?" I ask, impatiently. "Exactly how long is that?"

"I don't know," Carth says angrily, his words becoming harsher with each syllable, "I don't exactly like being left out of the loop here. I keep running things through my head, and they don't quite add up."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's nothing," he dismisses somewhat quickly, "Just that the Jedi made sure the Lieutenant got aboard the _Endar Spire_ before Taris, they practically took over the ship, and he was one of the only survivors of the crash."

"I'm sure it wasn't anything sinister," I reassure Carth, but I'm starting to doubt that'll do an ounce of good. "Darius isn't weeping blood, beating up old ladies, or stealing money, is he?"

"No, but now he's being trained as a Jedi? And they _ensured_ he was aboard that ship."

"I don't know about that," I mutter, "But, for now, we'll have to trust the Jedi on this one. What other choice do we have?"

"Trust the Jedi? What is that? A Bastila impression, it's a damn good one then. But, I just wish they'd actually tell us something."

"Who's telling us what now?" Mission's voice shouts from just outside the courtyard, "There you two are! I was worried you two were hiding away somewhere!"

"Glad to see you up and about," I say brightly, smiling. At least on the surface, she's accepted Taris' destruction. Inside, though? That's probably a different story, I'm guessing.

"So," she says, knocking a fist against my shoulder, "I hear we're staying on Dantooine for a few weeks, right?"

Carth nods, frowning as he does so. "As far as we've been told, Mission, that's the story."

"Great!" Mission proclaims, practically beaming with excitement, a radiant opposite to her mood just a few hours ago. "Do you know why that's such a good thing, Stephen?"

What the hell? I'm pretty fucking confused. I don't even say anything, but if I had a mirror, I could at least see my bewildered expression.

"Time to get you up to speed with a blaster," Mission finishes, "And teach you not to take cover next to a door, of all things."

Carth snorts next to me, apparently amused by this little spectacle. Argh, not you as well. Sod off, would you?

"Fuck!"

* * *

"I think you've actually hit the rock _around_ the target more than the thing you're supposed to be hitting," Mission taunts, gleefully pointing at the wide range of blaster impact burns around a small target, about fifteen meters away. For the life of me, I can't hit that damn paper Rancor; instead the surrounding rocks have turned black from my impressive targeting.

"You're a fantastic mentor, too, shouldn't you be encouraging me?"

In the past three weeks, my arm's been all but fixed, just the occasional lingering pain at night, which Bastila claims is more mental than anything actually wrong with my body. Still sucks, though. BioWare wasn't kidding when a medpac can heal you all the way up, though. It's a sonic screwdriver of medicine, it even gets your broken bones fixed right up.

"Maybe I'd encourage you… if there was at least one shot on the target."

Once my arm was finally out of that freaking sling that Bastila put together, Mission was more than willing to set up makeshift targeting range outside the Jedi Enclave, only the occasional passing Jedi would even notice that we were out there, shooting away at a fake target, or often in my case, the area around the bull's eye.

I try my best to remember what Mission taught me, along with the tips Carth gave when he visited my "training camp session" once. Hold the blaster tight with both hands, avoid recoil. Okay, got it. Make sure that your trigger finger isn't going to knock the shoot too far to the left. I'm much more used to shooting the weapon, expecting the recoil, but not in the way that an inexperienced shot fears the kickback. I squeeze the trigger, my eyes locked down the iron sights.

"That wasn't half bad if you weren't taking all day lining up, you know."

I'm still pretty damn rubbish with accuracy, but if something gets close enough, I can at least shoot the gun without leaving the safety on or missing – generally speaking that is. Carth called my close quarters style "spray and pray," which Mission of course caught on to using as well. I can even reload the blaster relatively quickly, getting the empty power cell out of the gun can be a real pain though. There's a weak button on this new blaster of mine, a heavier model that Mission bought for me the day I was fully recovered. She didn't say where she picked up the funds, and given her background on Taris, I wouldn't be surprised if she actually stole the money at some point.

"I hit the target! Yeah!"

"Barely."

At least my schedule for the past weeks hasn't solely been consisting of shooting something enough times to burn through more ammo than an army does in a day, Mission's dedicated herself to making me an effective member of the team, even getting a few of the others to show me a few things, though Canderous wouldn't have any part of that. Even though Bastila's been absent, helping Darius with _his_ training, she taught me a few tricks with medpacs and first aid. So next time I'm shot, I can avoid bleeding out.

"You're still pretty bad with that, Stephen. You even caught onto hacking faster than this."

I'm still nowhere close to Mission's scary talent with bypassing systems, hacking into databases, or picking locks – but she managed to at least teach me how to bypass basic security on computers. It's not quite like logging into Windows 7, but if there's more security than your average system, I'm totally lost.

"Sod off," I mutter, lining up another shot. This time, the shot actually hits the centre of the target. Always aim for the centre of mass, unless you're going for the head. I never fired a gun back home, but from what I've heard and read, this is actually pretty similar.

"Good enough for now," the Twi'lek teases, taking down our makeshift target, and we both head back to the Jedi Enclave, the grey outline of the building capturing the sun's glowing rays as it rises. Heck, at least Dantooine seems to have similar conditions to Earth, though it's a lot less humid, I'd say.

"You can at least hit something," she points out, "But Carth and Darius said that you had to be back in time for your lovely P.T."

The one part of my "training," that Mission had no desire to oversee, or have any part of, was what Carth and Darius affectionately referred to as "P.T." Physical Training, also known as "military men go around and make you work out until you want to fucking die." I still can't do more than a mile or so, before I think about throwing up or passing out. Given that I exercised all of once back home, that's a good improvement.

During my time on Dantooine, though, I truly have grown to like this place, it's a lot more relaxing than the city I grew up in. There's little more than the occasional disturbance, a family or someone acting up. I couldn't live here, but after Taris, this all feels like a well-deserved break.

Mission and I stroll through the Enclave's grounds, the sun still rising, its orange glow illuminating this corner of the planet, striking the stone building that we've grown to call home in the past weeks. Not a perfect place, with the Jedi everywhere, but alas. I keep quiet as Mission heads into the Enclave, the paper target wrapped underneath her arm. Standing outside the entrance, though, are Darius and Carth, just as they've been doing so every day. Carth's wearing the equivalent of the game's potato sack underwear, and Darius is dressed in what looks like a grey t-shirt and athletic pants. I'm going about the same, wearing my new "antique" clothes I've picked up here on Dantooine. Even found a pair of jeans, of all would think that in _Star Wars_, they'd be more advanced.

"Do we really have to do this?" I start to ask; frowning as Darius is already anxiously stretching and getting ready for our exercise in death.

"Do you have to ask every time?" Carth says, rolling his eyes.

"Why not? Maybe I'll get lucky."

"Don't count on it," Darius says, cutting my hope into several small pieces. "You wanted to sign up, got to get it shape, too."

I let out my best dramatic sigh possible, even though neither of the military officers are paying attention anymore.

I hate this.

* * *

I'm going to be sick. Or I'm going to drown in my own sweat, one of the two. It might just be both at the same time though. There's a reason I never went to the gym when I was in high school, I'd be able to run for about two minutes, and then I'd get laughed at because I'd have to stop. Long distance and endurance aren't my strong spot.

"Don't stop now, you're almost there!" Darius calls out from in front me, casually jogging next to Carth.

"Sod off," I mutter, spitting onto the grass.

"I still don't see how you can do this," Carth says to Darius, ignoring my rabid panting for breath.

"It's a time of war, right? And we're both officers, and now… I'm a Jedi, too." Darius grins, "So we should have enough authority on this."

Are they talking about me now? Great… I try and pick up the pace, ignoring the burning in my lungs and legs, catching up with them.

"Oi! Don't…" I gasp for breath, "What are you lot talking about?"

"Well," Darius slows down just a bit to adjust to my pace, "There's a bit of trouble with the Jedi and your… history with the Sith. The Council isn't found of ex-Sith residing on Dantooine…"

"So?" God, I think my sides are going to split open any minute now.

"So, as an Officer in the Republic Navy, I'm conscripting you into the Republic Navy, that way the Jedi have no legal reason to apprehend you."

My heart, racing as it is, stops a beat or two. But once I can actually breathe again, it all seems to make sense.

"So that's why I've had to run these damn laps the past two weeks!" I say, angrily staring at Darius and Carth. "And Mission's been teaching me to shoot straight!"

"I've heard you still shoot like a blinded Rodian," Darius taunts, causing me to pout a bit.

"Sod off," I mutter, thinking in between desperate gasps for oxygen, "So, what does this mean? I have to call you sir? Take orders?"

I really don't want to have to do that. No, thanks, especially if it involves Carth being my boss.

"In theory, you're still in training," Carth explains, "The rules are… skewed in your favour right now. It's more of a temporary fix than anything else."

"Alright, that doesn't sound too bad," I admit, smiling. Looks like I'm in this for the long run. With the galaxy revolving around all this, maybe I'll run into Selenea again on Tatooine, just like she promised. Then, I'll have to figure out what the hell I'm actually doing here, and how I can maybe get home. As I would have guessed weeks ago, I'm taking the most complicated and unnecessary path possible.

"We'll have to get you sworn in, and measured for a uniform," Darius says, looking thoughtful. "I won't make you wear it, but you might have to wear it if there are people who actually care about that sort of thing."

Oh, no, Manaan's one of the planets we're going to be headed to later. Filled with Republic ambassadors, soldiers, all the like.

"In the meantime, Private, get your ass running!"

Review, please.


	9. Chapter 9: Out of the Loop, Sort of

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 9: Out of the Loop… Sort Of

**Author's Note: So, last chapter we had Stephen learn a few tricks with a blaster, and he sort of got conscripted into the Republic military, as a side effect of his whole "I have a past with the Sith" conversation/cover-up while on Taris. Awful Physical Training was ensued on our hero, which is never fun.**

**Also, big thanks to everyone who has left a review. Reviews make me happy and excited to continue. So, hats off to you. Speaking of which, I've bought myself a fez. So, I take my fez off to you guys. And sorry about the wait on this one.**

**Lastly, I've started to branch out onto other sites besides this one. If anyone follows KotORFanMedia, or DeviantArt, I'm following the recommendation of a reader and putting them up there as well. So, yeah. Cool stuff, right? Especially DA, because that's worlds easier to post updates, stuff about me, yeah.**

* * *

"Honour isn't about making the right choices. It's about dealing with the consequences."

~ Midori Koto

Darius Rayner, former Sith Lord Revan, told me that the Jedi Code is only six lines. How does a rather cult-like group get so many sayings and such from only six bloody lines? The better question right now, though, is why- according to the Jedi Code's stance on respect and formality- I should have to wear a Republic uniform in their Enclave, instead of combat armour.

If it's because I'd be wearing combat-ready dress in a "peaceful place," why do they have lightsabers slung on their belts? Nobody has said a single word to me about sporting a firearm in their sacred grounds. So, when it boils down to it, none of this makes any sense, like a movie with more plotholes than actual plot, perhaps _Attack of the Clones_, speaking of them...

I think the Jedi are out to make me suffer.

I rub the front of my new outfit just a bit, trying to get one of the wrinkles out of the dark blue shirt, which is one of the most irritating things I've ever had to deal with. Tucked in shirt with something resembling trousers. Nobody told me I'd be stuck in this mess when I arrived here. This deal might be getting worse all the time. The only positive to this is that I've got a few nifty badges and markings on the uniform. One pin to signify my "rank," Private, and nothing else. Not even a medal to spice things up.

"There, is that better?" Carth asks, looking me over, checking to make sure the new uniform is a fit, compared to the last one, which was about ten sizes too big.

Before I can even answer, Mission speaks up. "Hey, at least he isn't falling out of it this time." She smirks a bit, and tugs at one of my sleeves to check the length. God's sake, this is like clothes shopping with my mother. Except possibly eight times worse.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," I mutter, feeling my cheeks redden. I hate it when people start messing around with my clothes and looks. I wore a fez back home, for goodness' sakes! Though, that certainly did bring up some really interesting conversations. "It's fine, Carth, by the way."

The older man nods, shaking his head just a bit as Mission finishes with my uniform.

"You look like …"

"A kid dressed up as a soldier?" I finish, frowning as I make sure my silver rank insignia is perfectly aligned.

"Something like that," Carth says, "You'll do okay, though. I've seen worse back in the front lines, kids who joined up and didn't realise what they were getting into."

"Well not getting into anything yet," I lie, fidgeting with my itchy clothing. "Not that I'm aware of, anyway."

Carth blinks. "Not that we know of. The Jedi are keeping pretty tight-lipped about all of this, and I'm not a fan of being left in the dark like this."

"It doesn't help that the Jedi are about as mystical as you can possibly imagine," the Twi'lek mutters, looking around the small room we're inside, just off the hangar where our ship has been resting peacefully for over three weeks. The clock's ticking until we get to take her out for another spin after Taris.

"Speaking of the Jedi," Carth says, sounding annoyed again, "Why haven't they let us leave Dantooine? Something's going on, and we aren't being told about it. Seems fishy to me."

"Well, we don't have a ship; the _Hawk_ is shady territory," I point out, "So why not stay here? It _is_ relaxing, especially after…"

I stop myself from saying it, the name of a world we all saw burn to nothing but ashes and ruins. Mission, no longer a digital character who you could ignore in a video-game, but a living, breathing person, who's still getting over loosing everyone on the planet. In the past weeks, she's pretended not to be hurt by Taris, but… I would be.

"After mucking around in the sewers?" Mission says softly, a lot of the confidence in her voice is gone now, she's quieter than normal. "Those were the good times…"

If by that, me nearly drowning in sewage… And a stink that was quite possibly worse than those swamps back in Georgia and Florida.

"Well, we don't have a ship, but the Republic would have wanted to debrief and reassign Darius and I," Carth explains, getting back on track with our earlier conversation. "We need every soldier to fight the Sith, and we haven't heard a single word from Admiral Dodonna."

"I take it she's my boss," I say, remembering the Admiral from the end of KotOR. She seemed alright, I guess. Taking orders might not be my thing, though.

"She's the Admiral in charge of the group the _Endar Spire _was a part of. We should have had to explain what happened to the ship, but instead we've been left to the mercy of the Jedi."

"You just don't know how to deal with a vacation," Mission snorts, laughing just a bit at Carth.

Before the Republic officer can come up with a suitable reply, the door opens behind us, the stained wood sliding into the doorway, revealing the silhouette of Bastila Shan, her face obscured by the light from the open-air hangar- with the sun shining brightly over Dantooine's surface. Once the door is actually gone, a bit of wind comes through the room, screwing around with my new uniform.

"Bastila," Carth greets coldly, obviously letting his annoyance with the Jedi slip into his conversation with her. "What do you need?"

Bastila raises an eyebrow. "I was looking for Canderous, Carth. There's someone outside the Enclave who asked for him by name, a Mandalorian."

A Mandalorian? Could be his "loyalty mission," if we're going off things being like _Mass Effect 2_… But that's with Jagi on Tatooine, and it was random and a very generic side mission that Revan does in the game. BioWare's had some trouble with side quests, and in this… game, they were all cut and paste fetch quests. Go get this thing and bring it back. Waste of time.

"How did he even know Canderous is here?" Mission asks, looking confused. "I think he's been hiding on the _Ebon Hawk_ almost the entirety of our stay here."

Bastila doesn't say anything else, and walks off towards the freighter docked nearby, which is still spitting out puffs of steam from the underside, seems like it might explode or something at any moment. Thinking back on it, though, the Millennium Falcon might have done something similar. Hell, we've even got a Wookiee just to make things similar. Punch it, Chewie!

Against my better judgement, I figure that I'll run after Bastila, see and get a sense of what is going on here. As nice as Dantooine is, I'd really like to figure out when Darius is going to be done with his training, get a lightsaber, and redeem Juhani, all that good stuff. The reality of all this "you got zapped into another world," has slapped me pretty hard after Taris, the sooner we can get to Tatooine the better. This isn't a game, at all, I could die any minute, so the better I can get back to Earth the better. It sounds a bit selfish, though, but fuck it.

"Do you need me for something?" Bastila asks as I run up to her, falling in step next to her.

Oh, geez. How can I phrase this without sounding like… I know everything that's going to happen. People _already_ think I'm a nutcase.

"I thought I'd join you," I reply quickly, "See what Canderous is up to or something. I got to do something around here, right?"

"I would have thought your new military training would be keeping you busy."

I shrug as the two of us walk through the _Hawk_'s loading ramp, into the relative darkness of the ship's interior. The smell of oil catches my attention, since we're right next to the swoop bike stored in the ship. I guess we own it now, given that we nicked the ship from Davik. I don't like motorcycles, or bicycles for that matter. Give me a car, with air conditioning, not in the elements.

"It has," I mutter, rubbing my shoulder, which still hurts from this morning's exercise. "Trust me, I'm aching all over." There's a long pause between us, so I figure I should probably break it sooner rather than later. "Speaking of which, what's Darius up to behind in your secret Jedi training?"

Bastila frowns, turning to face me instead of heading deeper into the darkened bowels of the ship. She places both hands on her hips, looking confrontational.

"The training of a Jedi is none of your concern," Bastila remarks coldly, "If you need to be informed about any of our business, you will be brought up to speed."

"Just asking," I mutter. Geez, something's up her ass today, normally she's pretty cordial and polite. I thought we had something of a working relationship after Taris. "No need to bite my head off."

"I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to talk about it, we have rules about it," the Jedi replies, taking a bit of the edge out of her voice. "You should understand that, Stephen."

"Yeah," I groan loudly, "The mystical Order that likes to talk in riddles, backwards sentences, and thinks that they're superior to everyone else, even people who helped then avoid certain death on Taris." My voice snaps at that last part, waves of frustration finally breaking through weeks of waiting. Even though I'm fairly certain of what the hell is going on behind the Jedi's doors, it doesn't change the fact that people are lying to me, and keeping me in the dark along with everyone else. The sooner we can fucking get to Tatooine, the damn better.

"Do we have a problem?" Bastila asks me, her grey eyes turning themselves into deadly slits, "Or are you just looking for a fight?"

No, because you'd cut my torso clean in half with your lightsaber. And I probably couldn't even imagine shooting you before that?

"I just don't like how the Jedi are keeping us all out of the loop, like Carth said," I admit, crossing my arms. Crap, I probably don't look intimidating at all. Worth a try, I guess. "Just because I'm not a Jedi or a soldier or the hero of the damn galaxy, doesn't mean I should get shoved under the carpet."

Not to mention, lady, you act as if the Jedi are the greatest thing since sliced bread, even though they've got their hands into some nasty business. Mind-wiping someone and lying to them to do their dirty work? It's not as if the Jedi Order is the greatest of things, truthfully. Sounds a bit like the United States back on Earth, they claim to be saving everyone, but… Vietnam still rings pretty harshly in my ears. Not that everyone else was any better.

"If everything goes according to the Council's plans, you shouldn't be in the dark much longer," the Jedi woman says in retort to my own annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah," I say, scoffing. I wouldn't bet on that at all. The Jedi sure don't deserve to get all wiped out or anything, but they could do with someone pulling that stick out of their ass, especially if that individual is that old Ed Asner bloke who acts like someone took a piss in his coffee.

Bastila fiddles with her hands, wringing them together for a few seconds before continuing on, "Besides, I couldn't tell you what Darius has been up to, Master Zhar says he has left for his final test, out in the ancient Grove."

"You're worried," I notice, taking a particular note in her body language, given that she isn't that fantastic at hiding it.

"What?" Bastila quickly shouts, raising her hands up, "No! Darius is capable of handling himself, I'm sure."

Sounds like someone is already getting into the whole romance subplot from the video games' plot, doesn't it? Speaking of which…

"I lost the game!" I hiss angrily, out of habit and adherence to the rules back home. Though, now that I think about it, I don't think anyone's going to understand that one at all. All my references and jokes just went down the toilet when I arrived here, I think. Not a big change, considering nobody back home liked my humour as much as I did.

Bastila blinks a few times at that, and regains her composure at the same time. "Right," she mutters, resuming her march into the hold of the _Hawk_, moving towards the workbench across from the dormant swoop bike, seeing Canderous hard at work modifying something, it looks like a pistol or a sidearm of sorts. He turns to the two of us, seeing Bastila in front, he looks right at her, a neutral expression across his features.

"You need me for something, Jedi, or are you just here to waste my time?" the Mandalorian asks, turning back to his work instead of giving Bastila his full attention.

Bastila ignores the man's taunt, and puts both her hands behind her back, making sure her posture is as straight. I can't help but wonder if she's doing that in order to try and stand up to him, especially after some of his more… negative comments about the Jedi and Bastila, in particular.

"There's another of your kind outside the Enclave, Mandalorian," Bastila tells him, placing a great deal of emphasis on the word _Mandalorian_, as if it was a curse, "He claimed his name was Jagi, and that he knew you."

In no less than an instant, Canderous looks shocked, eyes widening after hearing the name leave Bastila's lips. "Are you sure that was his name? Jagi?" Canderous asks softly, and he stops the work on his blaster, finally turning to face the Jedi and I.

The woman nods, and turns to leave Canderous and me, walking back outside of the _Ebon Hawk_, and likely returning into the Enclave to meet on some top secret Jedi ... stuff. The warrior watches her leave, gazing off into the distance; his mind has to be somewhere else.

I walk over to the Mandalorian, choosing my next few words with caution, as usual. "Who's Jagi? An old drinking buddy or a roommate?"

"Jagi is dead," Canderous answers bluntly, and my own memories bring me back to hearing about Jagi in KotOR. "He, along with his whole unit was killed during the Battle of Althiri, when I commanded my own forces to exploit a gap in the Althiri's defences, leaving Jagi and his group to die. The battle was won, after five days of fighting in the orbit of their pathetic planet."

"That's… lovely," I mutter, a vivid mental image of dying Mandalorian soldiers filling my mind. Military choices, I guess. I don't think I could honestly make a choice that results in a ton of people dying just for the sake of victory.

"It was a _glorious_ victory," Canderous assures me, as if that's supposed to be something to be pleased with. "Even despite Jagi and his men, I was responsible for one of the more honourable battles that my kind fought during the years of the war against the Republic. After that, there was little honour in fighting until Revan joined the war."

I nervously fiddle with my own uniform. "I thought you said that the whole reason Mandalorians fought against the Republic was for honour, glory, salvation, and all that good warrior stuff?"

"Except for those Republic soldiers hiding in the homes of civilians, defending themselves from battles by using others as shields. There's no honour there, turning from a proud soldier to a butcher. But we don't hold grudges, which is the only reason I'm not disgusted to see you in that," he says, waving a hand up and down at me.

"What?" I ask, puzzled, until it hits me. "Oh, right… the uniform. I think it looks pretty cool, actually. A bit itchy, though." I did not just quote _Star Wars_ inside of _Star Wars_, did I? Damn. "Anyway, what do you think Jagi wants from you?"

Aside from wanting to kill you, right?

"I'm not sure," Canderous growls, standing up from the workbench unexpectedly, "If he's been looking for me, I'm not sure why he's gone to the effort of that. The Clans have been scattered, lost and many of us work as mercenaries, just looking for violence and credits. I can't imagine Jagi is any exception to this rule."

"Violence and credits doesn't sound like good news," I say casually, as Canderous gathers his selected weapons, strapping them onto his belt with a few snapping sounds. "You're going to see him? And do you really need all that?" I ask nervously, shooting a glance at his list of armaments.

"I doubt Jagi's looking for a social gathering, you idiot," the Mandalorian chuckles, heading out of the _Ebon Hawk_, and I do the same, following him quickly. "If this turns bloody, I want to be the one standing with the biggest gun."

I shrug, blinking rapidly to let my eyes adjust to the difference between the _Hawk_'s interior and the practically burning rays of Dantooine's sun. Canderous is a bit ahead of me, I have to practically jog in order to keep up with the towering figure. Within a minute, we're already past the pathetic dying tree the Jedi have kept in the middle of the Enclave.

"What are you following me for?" Canderous frowns, striding towards the long hallway that leads out of the Jedi's base, stopping in front of a pathetic, rusted and gangly little protocol droid. "Looking for some sort of childish adventure?"

That's a damn good question, actually.

"I dunno," I confess after thinking about it, "Might be good to have someone tag along, right? Make sure you don't just go around shooting someone."

Canderous snorts. "Might as well have you than someone else, even if things turn nasty."

"Really?" I ask in surprise. Why would an ass-kicking Mandalorian want me instead of a seasoned soldier?

"It's either you, a Republic soldier, one of two different Jedi, a Wookiee or a teenager who thinks she's a criminal mastermind. You're tolerable, even though you're a weakling."

"Um, thanks."

"The Council has decreed that you may come and go as you please," the protocol droid proudly announces, tapping a few buttons, allowing us both passage into the Enclave's grounds- where we would hopefully find Jagi, and not have the two Mandalorians slaughter each other.

There is nothing but the silence between Canderous and I, along with the sounds of a few happy birds off in the distance, as we wander in the courtyard, Canderous looking everywhere for his former underling. While he does so, I spot a friendly figure out in the distance, walking back towards the Jedi's sanctuary. His head is hung low, blocking out his features in front of the planet's sun, but I still recognise him with that tacky pulled back mullet. Looks like Darius Rayner came back from the Grove, a deactivated lightsaber in one of his hands.

The man isn't adopting his usual posture, the classic military-trained "back-with-a-plank-on-it" look that he and Carth have shared since I met them: instead Darius is slouched over, a lot like I stand up, according to my mother. There's a few Jedi saying something in hushed whispers, and Darius walks by all of them without the usual happiness in his step, or the lopsided smile he puts on around all of us. There's a look in his eyes, though. Sadness? I can't tell.

The soldier turned Jedi doesn't say anything as he walks past me or Canderous, and for whatever reason, he doesn't even nod at either of us, as if neither of us even existed to Darius.

Putting aside our seemingly disturbed leader, I follow Canderous, who has actually picked up the pace, practically racing across the courtyard, pushing a young Jedi student out of the way even, before stopping completely in front of a full armoured man, who carefully takes his helmet as soon as Canderous and I walk up to him. Once that's gone, Canderous says nothing as he looks over the man's face, dark-skinned and covered with burns and scars, even along his shaved head.

"Canderous," Jagi greets cordially, as if he was discussing the weather, instead of eventually challenging the other man to a deadly duel. "Hiding amongst the Jedi now, are you? I wouldn't have thought you could have gotten any lower, you're practically a disgrace to Clan Ordo and the rest of the Mandalorians."

"Yeah?" Canderous challenges in an instant, "And what the hell have you been doing, you runt? Begging for work like a pathetic animal on the side of the street?"

Jagi scrunches his face, and spits onto the ground in front of Canderous, which nearly lands right on the older warrior's boots.

"You know," I say calmly, "Spitting on people isn't nice at all. In fact, it's pretty damn rude in most cultures."

Jagi looks at me, and for the first time, I notice that one of his eyes is completely white, and the tissue around him is surrounded by a number of disfiguring injuries. Hell, that wasn't something I saw from BioWare, they just used on of two generic faces!

"I suggest you shut your whore mouth," Jagi says, and from what I can tell he sounds exactly like someone does when they're talking about coach roaches or something they hate, maybe gnats. "This doesn't concern you, or your military, Republic."

"This actually concerns my… friend as well," Canderous steps up in my defence, now only a few inches away from Jagi's war-torn face.

"I doubt it, he's just a vile Republic soldier, he has nothing to do with anything Mando'a!"

"He's… _aliit_, Jagi. If you doubt my word and the honour of Ordo, I'll gun you down where I stand."

I need to get a job to afford a translator implant, I think. Mission mentioned that mostly everyone has one, Carth and I both lack one, the former because his was apparently lost during the escape from the _Endar Spire _before landing Taris, and I… they don't come standard on Earth. Then, I could also understand Zaalbar as well. Why can't this be like Star Trek? Especially if I'm Kirk.

"What's that mean?" I whisper to Canderous, cupping my hand over my mouth, hopefully that'll keep Jagi from hearing anything.

"It means _clan_, Republic," Jagi answers, apparently he was able to still hear me despite my pathetic stealth attempts. "So, Canderous, he's not even an _alor'uus_, judging by his markings. What is he, your _aran_, your guard? I doubt he could hold a blaster steady."

I whip out my sidearm, leaving the safety clip on for now, but I point the muzzle straight at Jagi, who doesn't even blink once at my threatening stance.

"Shove it up your ass," I snap, trying my best not to make sure my arm is not wobbling a bit, but despite my intentions, the blaster wavers up and down. "I'm more than good enough to be here, and to be Canderous' …alitey."

"_Aliit_," Canderous says, shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter who you who travel with, _di'kut,_" the man challenges, one hand is even reaching for a blaster. Oh, god, this is going to get nasty. "I have spent years tracking you down, hunting you for vengeance since the Clans were scattered after the war. I won't rest until I'm standing over your scarred corpse!"

"Really, in the middle of the Jedi's courtyard?" I point out, keeping my firearm pointed directly at Jagi's face. "That doesn't seem to be the smartest of places, mate."

"Canderous, I challenge you, to make you pay for that battle over Althiri, where you left me to die. I've even told the other Mandalorians here on Dantooine about this- if you back out, you will be considered even more of a disgrace than you already are."

"I didn't have a choice, Jagi!" Canderous shouts, "The battle had to be won, the Althiri were fighting hard. I saw a chance and I took it!"

Jagi waves a hand in protest. "The battle would have been won anyways. I haven't come to listen to your excuses. If you have any honour at all, you'll meet me out in the plains, and answer for the day you fled the battle, at the cost of dozens of lives."

Without another word, Jagi walks away into the sunset, the light gleaming off the thick armour he's practically encased in. Canderous growls next to me as his former ally leaves, and if I remember anything correctly, then he's out for blood.

"Well, that went well," I remark, shoving my own weapon back into a holster on my belt. At least I grabbed it earlier, instead of just going up to Jagi unarmed. I glance over at my Mandalorian ally, "You're not thinking of actually going out there, are you?"

Canderous' quest with Jagi was something I never enjoyed in the game, mostly because it was ended in blood with those two, no matter what you said. And there's not a way to spam medpacs or anything in reality, one of them is going to die. As much as Jagi was an ass, he's still a person and has the right to survive, killing him would be even more of a "dishonour," in the end.

"Of course I am! Jagi will pay for the words he has spoken against me, and now he's drawn other Mandalorians here. If I'm not there, I'll be removed from the Clans," Canderous snaps. "You wouldn't understand, you're not _Mando'a_."

"So, you'd just kill him because he said something against you?" I ask, frowning. "I'm pretty sure I understand it, actually."

Canderous just stares at me blankly. Oh, forget it. It's akin to speaking into a brick wall with a face drawn on it, which might as well have been how KotOR looked back in 2003.

"You want to try and talk some sense into this idiot, fine," the Mandalorian mocks, "Otherwise, I'll kill him."

Shit, this is getting more intense than I wanted. In a nearly impossible situation in a pre-determined video game, Jagi was bent on death, now it's up to me? How did I even get into this mess? Sometimes I wish I didn't happen to get involved with this disaster, it's what I get for keeping my big flapping mouth open all the bloody time.

"If you're insisting blood, I'm going to wear some damn armour."

"Not that'll help."

* * *

I almost told Canderous to sod off, but if he's already in some sort of awful blood rage I'd hate to set him over the edge and get shot. Instead, racing back to my locker aboard the _Ebon Hawk_ seemed like a much better idea, without the usual sarcastic fuss. Someone else, though, was in the mood for a good bickering it looked like, though.

The Jedi brat, Belaya, stands in front me, her eyes swelling up; she isn't even bothering to wipe them up. Someone's day got ruined, I'd say. And what was with Darius… Oh, no. Tell me that he didn't do it...

"You're with… that long-haired pillock, aren't you?" Belaya looks at me, anger behind her tearing eyes. "One of his lackeys and friends."

"Yeah, I know Darius," I mutter nervously, praying that what I'm thinking didn't actually happen. It couldn't be, Darius is a good guy.

Belaya scoffs, closing her eyes tightly for a few long moments, seconds that feel like literally an eternity, waiting a possibly horrible discovery. "I should kill you all, his minions, ruining lives, Taris and Juhani's."

"Wasn't Darius supposed to redeem Juhani?" I whisper, I think I know what's coming up…

"The Council, in all their wisdom, spent him to do just that," The woman sighs, "I spent countless nights with Juhani, under the stars…. They'll never happen again. All thanks to you and Darius!"

The words strike me like a hammer, my gut clenches up, and a shiver runs down my spine. Darius killed Juhani, the Jedi padawan who was supposed to be redeemed as part of his final test… How am I supposed to travel with a murderer? What if I'm next? Hell, everyone's in danger if someone's gone renegade.

"I'm sorry, I didn't…" I stumble through words, my heart pounding in my chest rhythmically, a drumming of death.

Belaya's face contorts, and she raises a hand to strike me, before I can even brace myself, her hand flutters, and returns to her side. Water is flowing from her eyes now, all across her features. She doesn't say anything, slowly walking past me. The quiet, muffled sounds of her sobbing echo in the courtyard, and only I seem to notice. Jedi walk past, apparently without concern or thought. The only person to see Belaya walk away from everyone is me, an eighteen year old from another dimension.

I can't help but worry, the thought of a dark-side Darius working its way through my mind. Things might have gotten worse, if I get killed by our team's leader before I can even get home. Fate is a fickle friend, and by friend, it wants to murder me. While pissing on my grave, I bet.

Three weeks here on Dantooine, putting on my battered and burned set of armour is considerably faster than before, but it's still a bit of a messy job at times. Especially at the moment, my hands wavering, unable to hold the armour pieces still. The metal clanking together fills the silent _Ebon Hawk_, even drowning out my heavy breathing, a failed to attempt to calm me down. Count to three…

I try my best to look confident, put aside my worries. I head out of the ship again, passing Mission in the hangar. Scorched armour, yep got that one on. Blaster, that too. Wits? No, I'm too addled at the moment, but it's time to meet Jagi.

* * *

"You're dressed to kill," Canderous remarks as I walk over in his direction, where he's been apparently busy checking his weapons and ensuring they were ready for our confrontation. "About time, I should've just gone without you."

"I just don't want you two to murder each other," I say softly, my voice drowned out by Canderous warming up his massive repeating blaster rifle.

"What would you do if someone insulted you, and would have you practically exiled by your own people? You'd be doing exactly as I am."

"My people suck," I answer honestly, "Slavery, genocide, leaving some people to practically die from starvation while others are richer than necessary? I wouldn't care if they excommunicated me honestly. I'm not proud to be one of them."

"Being one of the Mandalorian Clans is part of my blood," Canderous explains, as the two of us heading away from the walls of the Enclave, and towards the meeting place for this barbaric duel. "Even broken and defeated, we're still _Mando'a_, proud of our culture. To spit on my honour in such a way is unforgivable, only one of us can be standing by sundown."

That's fucking extreme. "Is that necessary? Maybe it doesn't have to be this way."

Canderous mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _outsider_, but he doesn't say anything besides that. The sun sets in the distance, it's normally yellow rays twisted and converted to a sky of blood, the three moons of Dantooine starting to show their faces above the flat landscape. On the edge of the horizon, the end of the plains, waits Jagi, flanked by soldiers in identical armour, similar to Jagi's- Mandalorian armour.

"Looks like he's got backup," I observe, squinting to see them in front of the sun. My contacts start to itch, and it dawns on me that I've been wearing these for almost a month, since I left home. I've even kept my BlackBerry holstered next to my gun, too.

"Afraid you couldn't even handle me, Jagi?" Canderous shouts the instant we're close enough to Jagi. "Or do you not understand the meaning of a duel, you and me?"

"I thought you would bring your pet," Jagi replies, grabbing a blaster rifle in one hand, "So I brought some of my own."

"_Ori'buyce, kih'kovid,_" Canderous spits, which makes all three Mandalorians across from us stop for a moment, maybe they were surprised by what they just heard. I would be too, if I could understand it.

"Oy! Enough with the threats and the ….guns," I interrupt, glaring at the people across from us, who are more armed than a branch of some militaries. "You all are acting like a bunch of pissed off school boys."

"You weren't there, human," Jagi sneers, "Get out of the way, and run back to your precious Jedi."

"Okay, so Canderous made a choice during a war," I say, grasping for anything that could give me an opening, "Surely he saved lives, the battle was won, right?"

Canderous steps forward next to me, but keeps his massive weapon primed and locked onto Jagi. "The Althiri were ripping us apart. If I had not acted as I did, many more of our soldiers would have been lost to those aliens!"

Jagi shakes his head in anger, a feeling mirrored in his voice. "At the cost of my unit! Was it worth it, for your own personal glory, Ordo? Or would you have preferred to see all of us die in person, watching my men perish in orbit of that world?"

"I saw an opportunity and I took it," The man next to me defends himself, "In the end, more lives were saved, our victory sustained without losing thousands of our fellow brothers. Even Mandalore encouraged such ideas, taking the chance for glory."

"At the expensive of our lives," Jagi's weapon hums to life, "It wasn't about saving anyone, was it? Just taking the honour for your own name."

"Canderous did what he thought was right, Jagi," I point out, and against my better judgement, I leave my hands away from my blaster. "Could you honestly say you wouldn't do the same, especially if your leader encouraged it? People die in war."

Silence falls across the Dantooine outback, Jagi and his two men, Canderous and I are all at a standstill, and I'm the only one without a weapon or two in their arms.

Talk about a powder keg that's ready to explode. A few seconds pass, and I am quite aware of my own breathing and heartbeat.

"I…" Jagi starts to say, but Canderous cuts him off.

"I followed our principles, Jagi, and facing the consequences of my actions over Althiri is part of being Mandalorian… Whatever those may be."

Jagi doesn't lower his own weapon, and nods his head towards Canderous and I, which must be some unspoken command given to his underlings.

"You were right," Canderous almost whispers, "This is going to end in blood." There's no joy or excitement in his voice, he almost sounds upset about what's going to happen.

"It doesn't matter, Canderous," Jagi says, "This _will_end in blood today!"

One of Jagi's guards shouts a battle cry from underneath his helmet, and blaster fire flies over the plains, towards Canderous and I, beams that could kill either of us instantly. I react as fast as I can, grapping a rock behind me, vaulting over it, nearly slamming my head into the rock and the ground, but I'm in cover now, even if that means that I'm practically prone behind a boulder, chips of it spraying around me.

I look over to find Canderous has stood his ground, ducking to avoid a blaster bolt, spraying several dozens of shots out of his blaster rifle, one which slams against another Mandalorian's armour, only turning the blue metal into a twisted black scarred mess. Canderous' target barely even staggers from the impact, and keeps firing his own weapon.

I try my best to jump back onto my feet, even though there has to be at least fifty pounds weighing me down, I somehow even manage it, making sure my exposed head isn't sticking straight out of cover. No more hiding on a door, then falling to break your arm. That Stephen learned that cover is very important, and can also save your life if you have a shred of intelligence. So in that aspect, I'm making efforts to do better.

I snap around and up, making sure my arms are clear of the rock, and I quickly flip the safety to the "Off," position, arming the weapon. Two times the trigger depresses, and two blaster bolts fly through the air, the first flies into the night sky, the second into the same Mandalorian that Canderous just shot. The man grabs at this chest as I start to duck into cover. Hell, this might be my chance! I spring back up and let off another four bolts, only peeking out from behind my cover to witness the Mandalorian collapse into a metal-plated heap on the ground.

Right when I ready myself for another attack, Jagi fires a wave of energy in my direction, whizzing around my head, there's even the smell of burning ozone all around me. Readying myself, two hands on the blaster, I fire. Much to my own surprise, my own blaster shot intersects with the man's chest, along with two from Canderous' weapon. Heat dissipates across Jagi's chest, black smoke rising from his armour. I can see surprise etched across his features, along with… disappointment?

I don't dwell on it though, his last lackey is still shooting, meaning that I have to get behind cover right now! Lucky break, a stream of weapon's fire ripping apart the rocks behind me, and my trust cover in front of me. I don't pull out of fire, the gun sounds like a machine gun, constantly, hammering away at my protection.

And then, it stops. I peek around the rock, and the only person I see standing is Canderous Ordo, standing over Jagi's corpse. He kneels, maybe to check if Jagi still lives? It wouldn't be the first time someone has something to say with their dying words. Especially in _Assassin's Creed, _where everyone wants to say a few words before the hit Davy Jones' locker.

"Jagi Caelius, Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la," the Mandalorian whispers to the corpse, pulling two fingers across the corpse's frozen face, closing his eyes shut. A respect for the dead.

"Well, that's that," I mutter, holstering my own blaster, rubbing my arm against my BlackBerry as I do so. "He's dead."

Canderous stops over the body for a few moments before addressing me, "Yeah. He's dead. I don't know how I feel about that, though. Killing him didn't bring me any satisfaction. It should have."

"Maybe everything doesn't have to be solved by killing each other. That's something that my people still haven't learned either. All those wars, you know?" I ask, making sure not to say any specific instances, though Hiroshima comes to mind. Rwanda, too. Yeah, let's just sit around while people are dying in the thousands.

"Victory through battle is the way of the Mandalorians, and look at where that's gotten us," Canderous frowns, and starts walking back in the direction of the Jedi Enclave. "Sticking in the past will wipe out all of us, we haven't adapted after the war."

"At least Jagi's dealt with," I observe, following Canderous, "That's not hanging over your head anymore, and you've kept your prized honour preserved."

"Maybe…" He says, pausing for a few long seconds, "You've got guts, kid, standing up Jagi, though. And trying to get us not to kill each other."

"Hey, I tried-," I start to say, as Canderous reaches over and punches my shoulder, hard. "Fuck! What was that for?"

"That… that was for being right."

"You're admitting I'm right, for once?" I widen my eyes in surprise. "You only took me with you because I was there, annoying you the whole time."

"This time, you were right. That doesn't mean you're always right, don't let it get to your head," Canderous says, rolling his eyes.

I'll take what I can get with this Mandalorian, I think. Canderous isn't the friendliest of people, but it looks like there's at least some friendliness between the two of us now. All from being at the right place at the right time. So, things aren't going too badly, for now.

* * *

"They could have mentioned before I left," I sigh, dragging my hand across my face. "Though, running around through a bunch of ruins that are probably falling apart anyways…"

The machine in front of me looks to the left and right before producing a digitized voice response. "I am sorry, Private ******. I was not told to notify you when Padawan Shan and Padawan Rayner, Captain Onasi-."

Enough, for fuck's sake, I don't need a crew roster. "I get the picture," I try my best to shove as much disdain and annoyance in my voice, hopefully the droid will be able to understand it. "You let me know when they get back from those ruins, alright?"

If it could leap with excitement, it would have just then. It has to have its voice moods pre-set, given how happy to please it sounds. "I will notify you the instant Padawan Rayner's party returns to the Enclave, Private *****."

I turn back away from the droid, maybe to take a nap aboard the _Ebon Hawk_, but I stop- I got to get some lesson into this thing's head.

"Call me Stephen, would you? You keep saying "Private ****, it's getting annoying."

The protocol droid pauses for several seconds, lagging while it thinks through my request. "I'm sorry, Private *****, I require administrator access to complete your preferences."

Oh, not this. What the hell is with computers? Windows Vista is apparently on this idiotic machine. The thought of "correcting" it with a blaster runs through my head, but I don't think I could pay the bill if the Jedi made me pay for their destroyed property.

"Sound less happy about everything," I command, doing my best to ignore the previous feedback. "That'll be good enough for me."

I start walking away, but after a few moments, the droid's voice carries through the room.

"I'm sorry, Private *****, I require administrator access to complete your preferences."

Sod off, droid, because I hate you.

I enjoy the silence, without overly happy machine's voices as I slip into my bunk inside the port dormitory on the _Ebon Hawk_. As futuristic as this world is, there's just a lot that's like home, beds included. A bunk might not be the best way to rest up, the mattress feels more like a rock, and the pillows will hurt your head after a few hours. The blankets, for whatever those are worth, at least do something. Military-grade bedding doesn't quite compare to anything worthwhile.

I decide to keep my armour on, but leave the blaster in the tiny locker underneath my assigned bunk, even denoted by a digital nameplate. It's almost sad; this ship is as close to home as I'm going to get here. Three weeks have been pretty uneventful, but a lot of this has just gone completely over my head. I've got to stick to what I know, what BioWare was nice enough to tell me already. Otherwise, there's no telling where I'd end up, just not home.

Hell, most kids my age go to college for a year, get drunk and fail out. Some do better than that, but everyone either leaves home or gets a job – again leaving home. Looks like the same happened to me, just a lot farther, and possibly a long time ago. Fuck. Could have been the last time I saw my brother, and both parents. Not on the best of terms.

Not even thinking, I whip my BlackBerry from its holster, using the trackball to navigate the interface. Okay, address book. There they are, all three of them, my friends too. I open the first entry on the list, "Mum."

How to you tell someone that you're gone forever, possibly, in a science fiction franchise? Almost sounds like a dream come true for some nerds. I sigh, composing an SMS. My fingers slowly tap out a message on the keyboard, trying my best to make it sound proper, not stupid.

_Mum, I've gone on a bit of a trip. Should be back soon, depends on some things. Don't worry. I love you. _

_Your favourite son, Stephen_

Good enough, for now. I hover over the menu button, and the "send" option. What if she freaks out? Hell, what if I never get back, and this all goes into some awful police report. Stephen ******, missing, sends bizarre text message.

Against my better judgement, I confirm the command, sending the message from the phone.

"Private *****!" The Jedi's protocol droid calls, startling me. I quickly glance up, shoving my BlackBerry underneath my sheets. "Padawan Rayner has returned to the Enclave and is currently in a meeting with the Jedi Council. The Masters and Padawan Rayner have requested your prescence."

What? Why me? Unless they're telling everyone about the upcoming mission…

"Alright, I'll be right there, sod off."

I quickly spot the red pulsing light from the phone underneath the sheets. I practically jump out of the bed in joy, thinking I've already gotten a message back. I unlock the phone with a password as fast as I can, ripping through the menu to see my new SMS…

I'm sure my mum would be utterly shocked to hear my say that I love her, sure we didn't get along the best, but when's the last time I said something like that? Maybe she'll think something's up… It'll be great hearing from her. Even a text.

The message I just sent has a notification on it, perfect.

"General Error ID 33: No network Coverage. Message to: Mum, was not sent."

I didn't even think to check coverage, which is none, apparently. Why did I even think that'd work?

Figures, my luck. I toss the BlackBerry into my footlocker, my eyes starting to tear up. Don't cry, you pathetic idiot. And really not now, when the Jedi Council is going to be seeing you.

Really, don't cry.

* * *

"We've consulted our vast archives, and we've found nothing relating to this _Star Forge_, or even the _Star Maps_," a low voice comes from the Council chambers, just in front of where I'm standing. Sounds like the right place, the rest of the team must already be in there.

I compose myself, making sure that there's nothing dripping out of my eyes all over my face, and walk into the circular Council Chambers, looks just like it does in the game. I'm not even surprised at this point.

None of the four Masters, one of whom looks strangely like Yoda, even acknowledge my prescence. A few of our group does, nodding or waving me over. I try my best not to draw attention to myself, so I figure standing behind Zaalbar is my best bet. Walking carpet shield.

"This news of a Star Forge is disturbing," the Yoda-like midget says, Master Vandar, I believe his name is, "We must discuss these recent events if it means stopping Malak and the Sith."

Darius, at the front of our conglomerate, along with Bastila, nods in agreement.

Master Vrook, balding and grumpy continues where his associate left off. "We need to find why Revan and Malak sought it out. Doing so could turn the entire war in our favour."

"We Jedi know that the Sith will not be beaten through martial might," Vandar croaks, "Secrecy is our best weapon, and the Council has a mission for you, and your entire crew, Padawan."

As if the two could read each other's minds, Vrook finishes. "The Star Forge must be found. Revan and Malak sought it out years ago, after the Mandalorian Wars, when they began their tragic fall. The Star Forge is surely a powerful tool of the dark side."

"The Star Map we found was incomplete," Bastila explains to her superiors, "But there may be Star Maps on other worlds that could eventually lead us to the Star Forge."

"Each Star Map is a small piece of a larger puzzle," Vandar muses, "Find the Star Maps on Kashyyyk, Tatooine, Manaan and Korriban, and we believe they will be able to lead you to the Star Forge. While you could not save Juhani in the Grove, you are our best hope against Malak and the Sith."

If I had any doubts that Darius murdered Juhani, they were completely gone now. I try to assure myself that this isn't a game, Darius isn't bound by computer code, that maybe there wasn't a way to save her. I don't feel much better. I'll have to talk to him…

"I'm ready for this mission," Darius says, holding his hands behind his back. "I assume that Bastila is joining me, since we shared the dream about Revan and Malak?"

Oh, yes… the dream that lead them to find the Star Map. I really am starting to feel out of the loop.

"While discretion is paramount to your success, we can't send you alone," Vandar agrees, "Those who aided you on Taris will also come, they may have skills you will find useful on your search for the Star Forge."

I glance over at Canderous, who scoffs quietly. I shrug in response. Whatever, it'll hopefully work out for me.

"You will not be able to hid the fact that you and Bastila are Jedi, nor should you. But your true mission should never reach Malak's ears."

Hey, Master Jedi, Malak doesn't have ears, he's got that insane metal jaw since someone sliced his off with a lightsaber. I almost speak up to point this out, but stop myself. Now really isn't the time for my jokes.

"When should we leave?" Bastila asks, her voice sounding so different than normal, filled with respect and admiration for her Masters.

"The sooner the better," Vrook snorts, as if that was an obvious question. He was always a jerk in the game, this can't be any different, of course. "The fate of the galaxy rests in your hands. I hope you and your team are up to the challenge."

"We will depart as soon as possible," Darius bows before turning to leave. "May the Force be with you, Masters."

Some Jedi beat the humour of Darius, looks like.

"What happened to Juhani?" I practically blurt when we're out of the Council chambers, and Darius is standing next to me. He raises an eyebrow, so I clarify. "I met a Jedi, Belaya, who told me you were supposed to save Juhani. And something…"

The Jedi stops dead, looking right into my eyes. I shift my gaze, taking a sudden interest in the floor.

"I went into the Grove, thinking that I was supposed to remove some dark taint," Darius starts to explain, "The Council didn't tell me what was really going on in there. I messed up, I didn't even think she could come back after killing her own Master. I'm a soldier, Stephen. I was trained to kill. Today, I learned that I was wrong. At the cost of a woman's life."

Damn, that's not what I was expecting.

"That's a good lesson to learn, I think Canderous got that today too," I add, seeing the Mandalorian walk past Darius and I.

"It wasn't a good choice, and I have to live with it…" Darius suddenly looks puzzled, looking between Canderous and myself. "I thought he mentioned something about you and him. He wouldn't say anything about it, though."

There's a surprise. "Another time," I dismiss, "I was just worried you turned into some mad man with a lightsaber, or something."

I follow the rest of the crew into the _Ebon Hawk_, we're all ready to start our mission: find the Star Forge and stop the Sith. I'm not looking forward to all the fighting, but with any luck, I can find a way home while helping Darius and Bastila save the galaxy. Normally, this would be exciting, a fun trip.

Seeing different planets, wandering through space. Things I dreamed about as a kid.

I grew up, though. I know people die now.

I can't get my failed SMS out of my mind, either.

* * *

Review please! I'll give you a biscuit/cookiee.


	10. Chapter 10: Lost

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 10: Lost

**Author's Note: Last Chapter made me kind of sad, truth be told. We had that fun bit with Jagi, Stephen and Canderous, but we lost Juhani, the possible team member in the game. And yeah, not quite so fun and adventurous, was it? Realism struck Stephen pretty hard, I'd say.**

**But we're off! To some strange, strange planet. We've got a lot of choices, don't we? Which do you want to see? Manaan? Korriban? Oh, that's right. Kashyyyk. That's where we're headed! Surprised? Me too. Not really, actually... But yeah. I don't know what order everyone else does, but I spent a good three days trying to figure out the best one. Kashyyyk's got a lot to do with Zaalbar, Manaan's well... From what I've read, nobody really likes it. But I've got some cool stuff planned for that one, I hope. As long as I'm not insane about it. Tatooine's got the (possible) return of Selenea. And Korriban's got the Sith. **

**Let's get on with it, you're saying, yes? You're right! Let's go!**

* * *

"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion."

~Albert Camus

Wookiees. Walking Carpets who live in forests. Your typical Star Wars adventure wouldn't exist without one, even _Knights of the Old Republic_ had Zaalbar, whose language and speech are still a mystery to me. But instead of dealing with one Wookiee, we're going to deal with a lot more of them sometime soon.

After talking to Darius, I followed everyone else on board the _Ebon Hawk_, though some of us still had to gather a few things from Dantooine. Not long after that, the word came down from our esteemed leader were we headed next. Much to my own disappointment, Tatooine wasn't chosen first. Kashyyyk was.

My initial frustration over going to a giant forest first already passed, but that's just even longer to wait until I can uncover some of my own personal mysteries, I guess. Kashyyyk was dark, woody and actually pretty annoying, with that corporation enslaving Wookiees along with Zaalbar's brother.

I wince, thinking about that. I almost forgot that Zaalbar and his family was such a critical part of this. Should I say something to him? Hey, your brother is enslaving other Wookiees and he wants to kill other ones too. What's that? Am I insane? Well, yes, but that's not really the important thing, is it.

Oh, wait. I don't know if Zaalbar even understands me. I sure as hell don't understand barks and growls. As racist as it sounds, it's like my dog.

Even from the other side of the small little ship, the hissing of the loading ramp, accompanied by a loud bang must mean that it's sealed up and ready to go. I force myself to get out of my bunk, walking through the main hold to the cockpit, where the usual crew have taken their spots: Bastila and Carth taking their co-pilot and pilot's seats, and Darius is standing behind them. I do the same, but without making the effort to stand up straight, leaning against the bulkhead beside me.

"All systems are ready for departure," Carth announces, turning to look away from his displays. "Time to fly off and find these Star Maps for the Council, right?"

"You heard the Masters," Darius reassures him, "They could be the key to stopping Malak and the Sith, and finding whatever this Star Forge is."

"And it's just us," Carth argues, "Sounds more like a suicide mission to me."

"We're headed to Kashyyyk," Carth's superior points out, "We just slip in, find the Star Map, and leave. We had worse on Taris, like stealing a ship while one of us was practically pumped on painkillers."

Kashyyyk, where the surface of the planet is fatal to practically anyone. I don't think we'll be walking in and out, Revan. Might be a bit harder than stealing a ship- wait, did he just … He did, didn't he? Ass.

"I still jumped on the ship, no thanks to you," I argue, even if neither Carth nor Darius are paying any attention to me. The Jedi looks over at the galaxy map, selecting our destination. As if by that simple command, the engine behind all of us roars to life, machinery clanking together – technology far beyond my own understanding, my comprehension. They always said faster than light travel was an impossibility on Earth. Let's prove them wrong. Again.

"This is Bastila Shan, requesting clearance to depart," The Jedi says into a sort of microphone, I would have to guess into whatever the Jedi have set up to manage traffic. I don't remember this when we arrived.

Seconds pass, and the view of the hangar bay through the _Hawk_'s window starts to drop away. Holy shit, that's not supposed to happen! Then it hits me, we're taking off, just not like an airplane does, this time we're going vertical! In only a few moments, we have to be all the way off the ground, and the ship shudders just a bit as it starts to race forward, cutting through the clouds.

In under three minutes, even the clouds are gone, replaces by the endless sheet of black and stars. Even that is twisted and replaced by the radiant blue glow of the hyperspace tunnel, taking us all on a trip that ought to be impossible. A second in my case, honestly. So we're off to a decent start in that regard.

"How long is this going to take?" I ask, quickly becoming bored within five minutes, the tunnel just keeps going, hell there's nothing to even look at out there.

"About four hours," Darius laughs, probably after seeing the pained expression I forced onto my face. "Hyperspace isn't quite teleportation or anything, yet.

Four hours?

Fuck!

"Yeah, have fun up here," I scoff, heading out of the cockpit. I hate waiting, it's like when you paint something, and bam… You get to wait for the all the paint to dry, the absolute worst part.

I could try the whole "talking to everyone on the ship" RPG element that's pretty much standard in… BioWare games. The irony is tangible, it seems, as I head for the back of our little ship, where Canderous ought to be. If anything, he and Mission seem to be my best friends here, and that's not exactly saying a whole lot, given that Canderous still thinks I'm a weakling.

The roaring of the engine seems to die down to a constant beating, followed occasionally by a shower of sparks coming from the engine room. Somehow, I don't think that's normally supposed to happen. Someone call a mechanic, but that'll mean we all pay a thousand dollars to fix one thing. Here, its credits, just like in every bloody science fiction franchise. A lot like dollars, given that Mission's explained it to me. Must have thought I was insane or stupid. Maybe both.

"What's cracking, mate?" I say, spotting Canderous near the swoop bike, a datapad in his hand.

"Are you an idiot?" The Mandalorian mutters, not looking up from his reading.

Well, maybe. "Sorry," I sarcastically reply, "Slang from back home, it's not quite as impressive as all your Mandalorian words you were using back on Dantooine." Not to mention, I wasn't honestly sure what Canderous and Jagi were babbling about. I could barely even manage to learn a few things in French classes in High School.

Canderous grunts in response, more of an acknowledgement that I said something, rather than caring about what I actually was going on about. How typical.

"You've been around a hell of a lot longer than I have," I add, trying to start a conversation off what I could remember in the game, "You've probably got some more interesting stories than just dealing with Jagi. Or anything that I could come up with."

The datapad in his hands thuds against the metal deck as he sets it down. "You want to hear tales of my exploits? Stories of glory? What happened to your ideas of peace, hmm?"

"Peace is good, but it doesn't lend itself well for any stories," I point out, smiling, "Besides, I'd think you've got a few things to share, given your history. And since I helped you out with Jagi, I need entertainment for the next…" I check my phone for the time, "Three hours, fifty six minutes."

Canderous rolls his eyes, apparently annoyed with me already. Normally, it takes a few minutes to get to that part. "You helped me with Jagi, that doesn't mean I owe you anything, kid."

I groan, slapping my hand across my face dramatically. Facepalm!

"Don't be an ass," I tease, carefully, so that I don't have someone pissed off ready to kill me. "Just one?"

The Mandalorian warrior spaces off, his eyes out of focus, no longer actually looking at me or the interior of the _Ebon Hawk_. After a few moments, he changes back to his normal attitude, though, readjusting his position in his seat, grabbing his datapad off the floor.

"You remember that wasteland, Taris?" I nod instead of interrupting the man in front of me, "Working for Davik was hardly stimulating, especially the last time I was there – along with the other Mandalorians."

Well, this actually is something I haven't heard before... I think. It's been a while since I sat through a play through of KotOR. I shouldn't have played that much _Dead Space _or your other new games. At least he's not going on and on about how he was the only survivor from a dozen missions, though.

"One of the first battles the Republic actually fought in," Canderous adds as an afterthought. "Instead of just sitting around while we took worlds outside their control. Proud to be in the Republic, huh?"

I don't even realise that his comment is addressed towards me like that. Yeah, I mean, I'm technically part of the Navy now, and my backstory means that I'm at least in Republic space for part of my life. It just doesn't click right away, though, that he thinks I'm one of the millions, billions, of Republic citizens. What a logical, yet wrong, assumption.

"What?" I stammer, collecting myself, "Umm… Not really. We don't have the best government or anything… And we're losing against the Sith, aren't we?"

Canderous nods, affirming my suspicions. "It took us five days to take the planet, raining from the sky in our Basilisk War Droids. The Republic had never faced us in our full might before that day, and the echoes of that fight would live on for years to come. Even if it meant us crushing the gangs in the Lower City, a task unfitting for a true soldier."

"I take it you don't like police work," I say, judging by his expression as he described the scene of Taris, and also his passing comments about working for Davik. "Too much paperwork?"

"Sitting around, making sure people don't frak things up, day in and day out? Not my kind of job, at all. It's not a job for any Mandalorian, but now, we're forced to take whatever we can get."

"Like being Davik's henchman," I say, thinking back to that guy on Taris, who tried his best to interrogate me, thinking I was a spy. The truth might have been even worse, I'm thinking. Hell, if I found out someone knew the future, I'd have him interrogated for information or something. Not a good option, for me, that is.

"Like I told you before, working for Davik was a waste. Killing people who wouldn't pay their debts, shaking down businesses for money... Not exactly stimulating, it barely even paid well."

"If money's so important, why are you with us?" I ask, frowning. That's something I've never thought about.

The Mandalorian stops for a few moments before answering my question. "Even to one of my people, the Sith are bad news, and wiping them out is a damn favour to everyone else. Good enough reasoning for you?"

"For sure," I nod. "I think all of us are thinking about the same thing. We've got the fate of the entire galaxy on our shoulders, mate!"

Yeah, Stephen, try not to sound like an excited Apple fan boy, while you're at it.

"You keep thinking that," Canderous snorts, "I've got some reading to do before we head out onto this planet full of trees," He even raises the datapad to show me that he's not just trying to get rid of me. Or that he has a pretty good excuse to make me go away. Either or, that's my cue to leave, I think.

I leave Canderous Ordo to his own devices, often in solitude; I'd have to guess, given that he doesn't exactly seem like anyone else in our group is rushing to talk to him while we're waiting to land on the next planet. Too bad, I could understand, people treated me like that in school. Always the last one to get picked for football teams and that sort of thing.

I'm wrapped up in my thoughts, and I nearly run into someone as I walk into the starboard dormitory, catching myself the instant before I would have smashed her against my armour. Whoops!

"Whoa!" A woman's voice calls out from in front me, and I quickly take a few steps back, already knowing who I nearly ran into with my classical acts of stupidity. "You planning on crashing right into me, Stephen?"

"Sorry," I mutter quickly, stepping backwards as well, finally seeing Mission right in front of me, her skin looking a lot darker given the interior lighting of the ship – or the lack thereof. I still don't know if I'm used to seeing actual blue aliens. I mean, _Avatar_ looked so over the top and fake, and in the game, Mission was just a blurry pixelated character. It's a bit alluring, maybe. I haven't made up my mind.

"Don't worry about," she says, smiling a bit. "I was actually looking for you, too."

"Oh? I was talking to Canderous," I reply. "Killing time."

Mission waves a hand in her direction as she heads back into the room, an unspoken invitation for me to follow her. Shrugging, I do so, finding myself in the same room as I did after escaping Taris, and comforting Mission at the same time. Seems like ages ago, but it also seems a lot like it was yesterday too.

"You and Canderous? That's where you were when the rest of us were checking out those ruins for Darius, right?" Mission asks, taking a seat on her bunk, and I do the same on an adjourning bed.

"He had a … personal mission to see to," I say, trying not to give a completely honest answer. "Can't say I missed crawling around some caves, though."

Not to mention… I've been on that little quest quite a few times. I'm sure that before Tatooine, I'll see one of the infamous Star Maps, which ought to look a hell of a lot cooler than it does in the game. Or at least, I'd think so.

Mission chuckles. "You didn't miss too much, really. Especially since you don't have a translator, there was a droid in there that cycled through a half-dozen languages in the entrance. And then there was the actual Star Map…"

"We'll be seeing more of those," I say blatantly. It's not a question. "Speaking of which…" Okay, I've got to try and play this the right way. "How's Zaalbar holding up? Since we're headed to Kashyyyk and all?"

"He's not saying anything about it," Mission frowns. "He's not one for words. Strong and silent type, unless you're threatening to take away his food. Even I've been on his bad side, whenever I try and suggest he brush himself up a little bit."

"I've just got a … bad feeling about Kashyyyk," I admit, frowning a bit. More like I'm afraid I'm going to get killed. And that Zaalbar's father is going to get killed by Darius and those Czerka Corporation slavers. "Hell, about this whole mission in general."

Mission moves a few inches towards me, a little tiny action that I almost missed entirely. "We're on a top secret mission from the Jedi, but we'll pull through. Find some Star Maps, and it should be all good. Maybe they'll even issue you a medal for that blank, boring uniform of yours."

"Sod off!" I joke, lightly pushing Mission on the shoulder, but just enough that she tumbles around, catching herself before falling flat on her face.

"Very funny," Mission says, her voice practically dripping with sarcasm. "It's always _sod off_ with you, isn't it?"

Umm…

"Yes… It's a cool phrase!"

* * *

"Shut up," I say, angrily flipping the material so my opponent can't even get so much as a glimpse of my secrets.

"Admit it, you can't even hit a target at a distance or hack a decent computer system," comes the taunt back, an insult targeted right at me. "And you're no better at this, either."

I bite my lip nervously, reviewing my rules in my head as fast as possible. It's like something back home, and now I'm being punished for never exploring this venture in the game. I've said it before, but I'm positive someone is out to make me suffer.

"And don't tell me to sod off again," my enemy warns, waving a finger as a mother does to a child. "You're not very good with insults if you keep using that all the time."

I ignore the opportunity to use that line, and try my best to ignore the words shot at me. I've got five cards in my hand, and I'm going to win this match, damnit. I've only won once, and I think Mission was being nice to me then, and that was out of five. Time's running out, and I've got an ego to stroke.

If I win this round, I could actually prevail, pull through, and dominate this set. Relatively speaking, given that Mission is in the same situation: sudden death. My hand totals right now at seventeen… that means that I'm dangerously close to going over twenty. But then again, Mission's looking at a fourteen. The goal is to hit twenty, and I've used all my side cards but a "+7" and "+5," which have to be incredibly pointless.

"Ready?" Mission asks, her azure hand poised over the deck of cards. I wordlessly nod, praying that I'll finally get lucky since I got here.

The first card flips over onto Mission's side. Plus four, for a total of eighteen. Good, but I think I can do better. Finally, a chance to one up my smug, alien friend. I watch as she slowly, tantalizingly flips over the last card, the one that'll ultimately decide my outcome in this battle.

It's a plus six.

"Fuck!" I curse loudly, breaking my silence. "Do I _seriously_ have to do this?"

A smirk works its way across Mission's face. I know I'm beaten know, given that look, reminds me of a predator that's found her prey.

"You insisted upon rules _besides_ Republic Senate, and we agreed on five practice sets," Mission teases, gesturing at me. "Nar Shaddaa means either credits, or..."

I curse under my breath, playing with my boot, until it comes off. I angrily throw it across the dorm, ignoring the sound of the shoe clanking against the metal bulkhead. Even with my sock, the "air conditioning" inside this ship is freezing, sending a chill on my foot.

I hate strip Pazaak. And I'm damn cold.

"If I just admit that I suck at this," I mutter, grinding my teeth together, "Does that mean I don't have to keep playing this?"

Mission shakes her head in response, casually swiping all the cards off the deck into a messy pile. I watch her as she shuffles the deck, priming another confrontation between the two of us. I remember in the KotOR game she mentions being good at cards, but this is something else entirely. Her eyes aren't even looking at any of the cards, either from experience or just some unnatural, freakish ability.

I rap my fingers against the deck, lying back down, a mirror image of Mission – who in the past thirty minutes has pretty much laid prone in the room, our cards in between us. Good thing this isn't poker, or I'd have a small stack of chips. As good as I am at _that_, seems like it'd be pointless with her.

"We could try something besides Pazaak," I suggest, sighing as loudly as possible when Mission's done sorting our cards. "You know… something I could actually win at. Since everything we've done I've been rubbish at. Too bad we don't have a video game console around here…"

"Has anyone told you you're a bit weird?" Mission asks, rolling her eyes dramatically just to add to the effect.

Has anyone? "Who _hasn't?_" I say back, rhetorically, even though she wouldn't actually know the answer. "All the bloody time, I think."

Mission nods in lieu of answering, giving me a number of cards for the two of us to look at. I shoot a glance at the five Pazaak cards in my "side-deck," the ones that Mission can't see. Looks like my total is at twelve, a bit better than last time. Still have more cards to add to my total, though, not even counting my side-deck. I don't do anything, gesturing for Mission to take her turn. Speaking of which, why do I always have to go first. Seems like the game could be rigged, for fuck's sake.

I try and do the math in my head as quickly as possible, looking over Mission's cards along with the two she's just put down. Eleven, which isn't bad – it all depends on what the next hand gives us. Okay, the next one of mine is actually a plus ten, pushing me over the limit of twenty. This means I'm going to lose, again. Good thing I've got one card in my selected side deck, a minus two.

Hell yes! Perfect twenty!

I launch myself off the deck, pumping my fist into the air. Basically… I rule. When you hit twenty, you win. Instantly.

I can't even try to wipe my smug smile off my face, especially when realisation hits Mission's features. She puts on a scowl to match my own earlier, and takes one of her boots off, placing it behind her. Instead of laying back down, she sits up.

"You got lucky, didn't you?" The Twi'lek says, eyes narrowing. "It's been quite a while since I played by Nar Shaddaa rules, even longer since I've lost."

I readjust myself, starting to feel my armour digging into my ribs, and position myself upright again, tossing my cards back towards Mission, ignoring that I just made a disorganised mess. I'm on a roll; I don't need to worry about that. Though, something about what Mission just said tugs on the side of my mind, a little nagging statement that's making me a bit cross.

"You've played by these … rules before?" I ask, investigating her most recent statement. "Nar Shaddaa rules?"

Mission picks up on my undertones immediately, ceasing all efforts to pick up the cards I tossed about. She knows what I was referring to, doesn't she? Crap!

"Taris is-was… a rough place, and you know me, hanging out in the Lower City," Mission teases, "Why do you ask?"

"Um, no reason," I mutter, tapping my foot, waiting anxiously for the next few cards, anything to change the topic.

"Stephen ****, are you jealous?"

Fuck. I practically fall backwards as if her words were physical blows. I don't even know what the hell I'm doing, or going I'm going to do.

"I didn't say that," I backpedal through the conversation as quickly as I can, leaning back, one hand. Am I sending out signals or something? I haven't even been on more than a couple dates, and that wasn't even an actual one, I was forced into it!

Honestly, I don't know what's going on. Things seem to slow way down, and before I can even get a grasp on anything, I realise that Mission's only a few inches away from my face, enough that I can feel the heat of her breath on my face. Wow, she is really blue.

"Well…" I start to say, my cheeks growing warmer every second, they have to be redder than a felt fez. My hand bolts for my communicator, a tiny little device that Darius gave me last week, in case anyone on the team needs to get in touch with me. "I … got to clean. Things. Like my gun, yeah."

I stumble out of the dormitory as quickly as I can, my eyes focused on analysing every inch of the floor in front of me. That was… strange. To say the least. I was always absolutely terrible at figuring out "who fancies who" back in grade school, but something's clicked in my own head. I think I've got a crush on a blue video game character.

As if I touched an artefact and was given a flashback mission to play as another character, a few words from Carth, three weeks ago bubble up the surface of my pot of memories.

"_Mission and I convinced him to do so. Mission more than me… Don't tell me you haven't noticed…"_

Oh, shit.

This is bad news.

Maybe I'm just imaging things, that has to be it. I'm taking way more out of this than I should be. It sure wouldn't be the first time, I bet. Okay, so I'm sure I'm just imaging things. I think. Now, if I'm imaging that Mission's interested in me, that still leaves two very obvious problems, the first being that she was pretty damn close to me. The second though, is that I'm infatuated with someone who can't be real. Sure, I've wished that I could go out with a few girls back home, who hasn't? The male pursues the female, it's in the genes.

I'm interested in a video game character. Who is real now... I'm so helpless.

I walk back where I did hours ago, into the cockpit, finding Carth and Bastila have yet to move, though Darius has taken a seat on the deck of the freighter behind them, apparently he doesn't find the need to stand up for hours on end, like an NPC, speaking of irony.

Without even turning to look me over, Darius speaks up at my arrival. "You're missing a shoe, aren't you?"

I glance down, realising that he's right; I took it off when I lost a round of Pazaak. How in the world did I miss that, too? Fuck's sake.

"I'll grab it later," I dismiss, waving a hand as Darius turns his head to face me. "We're almost there, right?" Given that the blue tunnel of hyperspace is gone, instead treating me with a moving plane of stars, a sphere directly in front of us, getting larger with every minute.

"Within fifteen minutes," Bastila says, joining our conversation without an invitation. "Czerka Corporation already gave us permission to land, though they were quite clear that a docking fee would be given to us the instant we touch down."

"I'll deal with that," Darius inputs. Oh, the whole "I can get out of paying a small, little fee" option! Why couldn't I do that in Wal-Mart?

"I take it no one's ever been here before," I remark, peering at the planet growing ever larger out the window. "Well, except Zaalbar," I correct myself quickly.

"I've heard about it, sure, but there hasn't been any need for the Republic forces out here," Carth speaks up, his attention mostly focused on his own instruments. "Czerka practically runs the entire planet."

"A whole planet controlled by corporations," Darius scowls. "Lovely."

"Now, here I was thinking you'd enjoy this," Bastila retorts, "After all that talk about being a 'Hutt disguised in human form.'"

I raise an eyebrow curiously, knowing full well what's started between these two. Romance inbound, it sounds like. Damn it! Is the entire universe out to remind me about the one topic I'm trying not to think about?

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the ship finally landed on our first destination, an event as excited as when we all landed on Dantooine three weeks ago. From inside the ship, landing is really dull, especially when the notion of looking out the windows is a terrifying one. Even on airplanes, I couldn't ever find myself able to do it, but in a spaceship, that's even worse.

I try my best to calm myself, my heart keeps finding the need to beat more often. Blind and blissful would be better than walking into somewhere when you know that there's a damn good chance you're going to die. Painfully. I've got the basics of self-defence down, either from martial arts on Earth, or Mission's lessons. One blaster, that ought to be good enough to save me from anything awful.

Probably.

"You might want your shoe, Private," a woman's voice informs me, one that sounds strictly professional, like a secretary addressing their boss. I turn around, half surprised to find Mission, tossing my boot onto the floor in front of me.

"Thank you," I manage to reply, drilling all emotion out of my voice. The words don't sound right at all, hollow and without any meaning.

I avoid Mission as I slip my shoe back on, glad to no longer have to smell the odour that was starting to emanate from my uncovered toes.

The rest of the crew, except our Wookiee friend Zaalbar, are present in the main hold, and I try my best to ignore the many stares that are shifting between myself and Mission. Don't give anything away, you pillock. Keep a poker face… Hell, I practically feel them looking right at me, unless I've gone completely paranoid. It's that feeling on the back of your neck, the tickling sensation. I ignore it, following everyone else out of the ship onto this new territory.

"Are you sure about leaving Zaalbar behind?" Bastila's voice drifts from the front of the group, almost blocked out by the sounds of birds, bugs and all other sorts of wildlife.

I'm the last one out, it looks like, stepping of the ramp of our ship and onto the wooden landing pad on Kashyyyk. The humidity hits me like a fist, nearly making me cough after being used to the purified air on the _Ebon Hawk_. I stare in wonder around me, taking in all the little details of the wooden walkway built between the trees, which tower above us, their tops blocking out the sunlight. The air, thick and moist, is illuminated by several lights on the walkway, which are surrounded by clouds of miniature bugs.

I bite my lip, wiping down my sleeves out of habit. I hate bugs.

"He told me he needed to say on the ship," Darius replies ahead of me, sounding a bit annoyed with Bastila. "If he doesn't want to come-."

"Zaalbar's from here, though. Wouldn't he want to come back?" Mission asks, butting in. "It's not like we know anything about this planet."

"It's got big trees, if your eyes don't work anymore," comes a sarcastic reply, from Canderous.

No one has anything to say back to the Mandalorian, the whole group falling silent an alien walks towards us, flanked by armed human guards. Narrow, elongated head… That's… an Ithorian, the nature hippies from KotOR2. Must be one of Czerka's people, so it's time to talk corporate. Shove a pole up your ass and care more about people than money.

I don't add anything to the on-going conversation, mostly because I'm still lacking any sort of translator. Where the others are hearing comments about Czerka corporation, I'm hearing something akin to a toilet gargling. And I'm on a planet whose inhabitants are all incapable of speaking the same language as me. This is going to be a tough one.

"There's no need to charge a docking fee," Darius says, interrupting my chain of thought. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his arm wave in front of the Ithorian's face. Jedi really will mess with your mind.

The Ithorian says something in reply, prompting another snarky answer from the former Sith Lord.

"I'm Darius Rayner, I know more than you could possibly understand."

Oh, dear, someone's gotten a bit cocky about that. I shove my head into one of my gloved palms as the Ithorian and his underlings walk off, apparently content to let us do our business here on Kashyyyk. Not too surprising, given that in the game all they told you was that you can possibly pay the docking fee… though Darius handily got around that one. This corporation here is just exporting Wookiee slaves, hopefully we'll deal with them, assuming a Wookiee doesn't rip my head off.

"Do we even know where we're going?" I ask, frowning as a miniscule bug lands on my face. "You know, since we don't have a guide or anything."

"No," Darius replies simply, "But that's why we're splitting up. Bastila, Carth and I will try talking to some of the Czerka employees in the spaceport. You, Mission and Canderous… Just try and see if you can find anything about the Star Map."

Wait, didn't he have that little two second cutscene that says the Star Map is on the jungle's surface, where people go to die?

"Any clues or anywhere to start?" Mission asks, glancing at me before asking. Oh, thank you, you spared me from poking around with those kind of unusual questions.

Darius and Bastila exchange glances before the two of them shake their heads, the unspoken negative answer. Are they holding on me? I'm a man on the edge! Looks like we're on our own… sort of. I've just got to be discrete. Not my strong point, but let the punches roll, I guess.

* * *

I hate the jungle. The humidity, the bugs, the smell. Not to mention all the gnats that are insisting on ripping my face apart piece by piece. I think I might have seen a snake slide past my feet, which almost gave me a heart attack. Slithering, disgusting, vile animals. Not to mention the creaking of the wooden walkway beneath our feet. I'm constantly afraid that the whole thing is going to give way, and we'll all plunge to our deaths.

Death. It's been hanging over me like a cloud since I left Earth. I never thought that I was going to die before the age of fifty, probably from either a car accident or cancer. Even the military back home seemed pretty safe compared to this. I never asked for this kind of risk or danger or responsibility. That's why man invented video games: have the fun without death hanging over your head the entire day. No mission reset screen, no reloading in real life. All it takes is one hit, then I'm gone. No more.

If someone's behind me being here, I'm going to punch them in the face after I check to make sure they're mentally competent. Who would have picked me, of all people, for this? I guess I haven't hit too big of a culture shock, since I've played this "game" before, but damn… I wish I went to college instead of this. At least I could still talk to my mum or dad. Come home on the weekends, that's not exactly an option here. As much as I'd hate to say I miss any of them, let alone my brother…

I try my best to push these thoughts out of my head, rubbing my eyes. Mission and Canderous are walking ahead of me, about to stop at that little shop that has those two bickering idiots. I barely remember that side quest, but hey, it's a shop. Carth and Darius said I start getting paid now, I even got something that resembles a credit card. Charge that sucker.

"Just make sure not to get a loan," one of the two shop keeps warns as I join the rest of the group. "The interest is horrible. That's why I'm here.

"But you've never heard of any Maps or Ruins here?" Mission asks the two merchants, ignoring me as I step beside her.

"No… But I do have navigational charts, among other things, if that's what you're looking for." His words practically whoosh over my head, I'm instead looking right at my blue friend, she's caught my attention again. I never noticed she had brown eyes in the game…

"What?" Mission says, turning to face me, apparently observing my shift in attention. Oh, crap.

Quick, come up with something. "Well, let's see what you _do_ have," I abruptly say to the store' clerk, whipping my head around to look at him instead. Get someone talking about money, that ought to do something.

"Of course," the merchant, Eli, says, in a tone that reminds me of a slimy, nasty used car salesman. "Some of my more… exquisite items aren't on display, but here you are." His arm gestures to a few shelves behind him, on the edge of the walkway. Okay, let's see…

I follow his hand, looking over what's available for my money to be spent on. Blasters, a few vibroswords, first aid kids so that nobody bleeds out and dies… The last item on the shelf catches my interest right away, though. Black, the lights from the Great Walkway glinting across it. I absolutely need it!

Without even thinking about it, I pass over my electronic card, taking my prize in my hand. The instant I receive my card again, I slip it back into my pocket next to my phone, and slip the purchase onto my nose.

I've got sunglasses. Hell yes.

It's really, really dark though. I can't see the gnats though, so I feel much better about all of this. I smugly adjust the sunglasses and gesture at my two companions, to let Mission and Canderous continue on our search for information. But now, I look cool while doing so.

Canderous mutters something that sounds a lot like "idiot," but I can't tell with all the damn noise of this forest. The regular pattern of footsteps and walking to find an objective sure is like an RPG, but thank goodness I actually got that physical training earlier. Otherwise, I would have had to take a breather.

"We really should ask the Wookiees about the Star Map," Mission says, talking to Canderous. "It's obvious that Czerka doesn't know anything besides how to export slaves."

"Even my kind wanted nothing to do with this world," the Mandalorian replies, "The Wookiees are fierce, and fighting them throughout a forest would take months, maybe even years. It doesn't make sense how they're all enslaved to this company."

"Unless they've given up," Mission suggests, "But that can't be right. Big Z fought tooth and nail against the Gamorreans in the sewers. Nobody would even want to be a slave."

"Not considering how little Czerka seems to be doing. Unless they've hired an army of Mandalorians to do their dirty work."

I'm a bit surprised they've actually started to figure it out. Not quite there, but close. I don't want to add anything that I already know, so I stay quiet as our group walks towards our meeting point, where Darius, Bastila and Carth are standing, waiting for us. Fashionably late, as always. Bastila Shan raises an eyebrow, but the other two are static. Though, Darius seems to have done a similar move to I, and pick up something new and shiny. In his case, though, he's donned a set of golden armour, similar to my own. Looks much better in gold, of course. That way kids can still make fun of me and not Darius. Go figure.

"Sounds like you had a lot of luck," Darius observes, having heard Mission and Canderous' conversation.

"The Star Map has to be located somewhere were Czerka is not aware of it," Bastila points out, "It's possible the Wookiees know something the corporation doesn't. We heard that the Wookiees have a village not far from this spaceport, deeper into the jungle."

"Deeper?" I complain, grumbling to no one in particular.

"I agree," Carth says, "It looks like we're headed into the part of the forest where Czerka doesn't patrol."

"Better now than never," Darius points out, "Let's go."

I sigh, again ignored by our group of heroes, and my feet automatically march, caught in the wake of the rest of the group, pulling me along for the ride. The sound of armoured feet clanking against the wooden walkway help muffle the drowning of the animals, but a particularly loud roar startles me. Oh, god, I'm going to be eaten by a rabid animal!

"Hey, Mission," I blurt out, jogging to catch back up with her. Hell, let's sort this out, instead of having the most awkward situations possible.

The Twi'lek stops, letting me get alongside her. I ignore the looks from the rest of the team, as well as the heat rising through my neck and cheeks. I'm not going to be asking her on a date or something, firstly because we're on a critical mission to save everything from death, destruction and all that. Besides, what if she doesn't actually feel the same way about me? Fuck, I hate rejections… She's a video game character, too. Just get things cleared up, and we'll all be good.

"Private," Mission greets coldly, just as she did back aboard the _Ebon Hawk_. Shit, this isn't going to end well.

"I just wanted to … make up after earlier. Things weren't quite professional between us, you know? I just didn't want you to be cross with me or anything. So… yeah."

What a great way to end a sentence, you idiot.

"What I mean is…" I correct myself, thinking as fast as I can, "I dunno what we were doing back there, but I think we found out Pazaak isn't my thing either."

"Don't worry about it. Things were… weird. You're a good friend, Stephen," Mission assures me, slapping my metal covered shoulder lightly. "Don't let little things get to you."

Wait, what? "So we're good?"

"Of course!" Mission chuckles, "I was messing around with you."

"God damnit!" I curse, not even caring if our little talk is being overheard. "Sorry," I mutter to nobody in particular.

Mission smiles and rolls her eyes, the usual attitude when I put my foot in my mouth. Still, it's much better to be on friendly terms with her. I don't even care if the rest of the _Ebon Hawk_ gang think I'm stupid or am exceptionally good at being incredibly thick. Mission and I aren't tense, instead, we're friends. Good enough for me. Well, I wish.

"_I was messing around with you."_

Something about that just doesn't sound right, tickles my senses in a manner I just can't place. The tone of her voice just didn't sound… right. Was she actually okay and messing with me, or just trying to ease the tension between us?

Hell, who am I to think I even know her, she's a video game character!

You've dug yourself into quite a whole this time.


	11. Chapter 11: Choices

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 11: Choices

**Author's Note: Last Chapter was the start of Kashyyyk! The main focus was on the awkward Mission/Stephen romance, that has been dubbed Mishen by one reviewer. So yes. We're on with the planet full of walking carpets, aye? **

**Off to the forests, with even more things coming. Yay!**

* * *

"Confusion is a word we have invented for an order which is not yet understood"

~Henry Miller

_Smack_.

I wipe the remnants of a four inch bug off my face, grimacing as it leaves a bit of blood on my cheek. I don't care if that was a stupid move at all. I wanted that vile, disgusting creature to go die. That stupid, stupid thing, flying all around my head and just frankly pissing me off. And the slithering things on the "floor" with us, it's awful.

One down, about twenty million to go. How could any race, especially one of the fiercest I've seen, come from this ridiculous planet? I'm honestly surprised that they weren't eaten alive by gnats or some other animal. This planet… hell, even its name sounds like someone's spitting all over the floor while fighting a tooth ache. Too many damn Y's, if you ask me. They didn't do around back home saying, "This planet is Earyyyth!" But, I guess we did name our world after dirt in English. Go team, that's a fantastic one.

"The Wookiees are just going to tell us where to find the Star Map, assuming they know where it is?" I ask, once the bug is wiped off my cheek. "That gate guard did say they rip people's heads off." That's seriously been bothering me for the past twenty minutes. Sure, I might be a bit on the paranoid side, but that keep me alive when this mess started. That, and enough to sustain a dead horse. Someone up there's watching out for me, I guess.

The wooden gate shuts behind us, raising the main defence the spaceport has against the untamed wilderness. Sure, the Wookiees built walkways linking the trees, but Czerka Corporation makes no effort to police the area outside the spaceport, leaving all sorts of wild and dangerous animals to fight off – some of which were massive in the game. Czerka was kind enough to station a lot of turrets right here, to protect their own interests, but deeper on? We're on our own. Enough with the rabid, attacking animals. I had my own fair share of those things to fight back on Taris. Rakghouls and a Rancor, though we all ran away from the latter, I guess since there wasn't any convenient gate to smash through its head.

"They rip slaver's heads off," Mission Vao points out, trying to soothe my fears, "I mean, Big Z might look tough, but he couldn't hurt anyone like that on purpose."

"Zaalbar said he was exiled," Darius argues, joining into the debate. "We don't know if every Wookiee is the same way. But Mission has a point; the only outsiders they meet are slavers… or people who _buy_ slaves. Either way, we need to make sure they don't think we're one of them. Years of these conditions, they'll probably hate any outsider."

"That rent-a-cop made it sound as if the Wookiees were vicious creatures, but that doesn't quite add up. Czerka made it sound as if the Wookiees aren't fighting back anymore," Canderous says.

"Either way, something isn't right here. Even if the Jedi's Star Map isn't here, we could get to the bottom of this," Carth mutters.

None of us have anything to say about that, and continue on our trip through the forest. Out here, away from the spaceport, the sounds of engines are gone, replaced by the sounds that nature provided on this world. Or BioWare. Whoever made this planet, that is. Reminds me of when I went camping, cut off from all technology, it wasn't pleasant to me, at all.

Even though we're moving at a relatively quick pace, I glance over the side of the walkway, and nearly get ill that moment. The drop would be fatal, and I can't even see the bottom of this pit, the blackness encompasses everything, even the vines and trunks of the trees. Damn, how high up are we? I didn't even notice that the air was thinner or anything, like they say about mountains… But if I fell… Well, I'd be screaming for quite some time, I believe. And some idiot decided that I didn't need handrails. Maybe Wookiees toss people off the edge?

I quickly take a step back, then another and another…. until I realise that I'm getting closer to the other edge of the platform. Oh, snap, this isn't good at all! I practically begin to hyperventilate, grabbing my own arms, trying my best to stay exactly in the middle of the walkway. I'm not falling to my death, not after everything. Not after making it alive through Taris. I don't care if that was my precognitive knowledge, I made it.

I start to relax, and slow my breathing, just as someone's hand pushes against my back. Since everyone but Carth, Canderous and Mission are in front of me, I think that's a pretty easy guess. Carth was always pretty anxious to hit on a female Revan character, I don't get the feeling that Carth's not into me in the same way as he would be if Darius was a woman... Okay, I'm done thinking about that. Breathe in, and breathe out.

"Thanks," I pant, "That's … one hell of a drop. How do they even make trees that big? It's not possible!"

I stand where I'm at, letting Carth continue past me, on with the rest of the group.

"I take it you don't like heights," Mission guesses, taking her hand off my armoured back.

"If there's a guardrail, I don't mind. This is stupid. What's to stop me from slipping and failing?"

Mission steps up next to me, and I keep an eye to see exactly how far away from the edge she is. Good, not too far. "I'll catch you," the alien assures me, "Probably."

Probably? "You sure know how to make me feel better," I scoff, carefully following the rest of the party, staying right in the middle of the walkway again. I'm not going anywhere near the edges again.

"Don't worry about it. Heights don't bother me much, since I spent so long on Taris," Mission says, following me on my left side. "Just don't try and spit over the side, and you won't fall off."

I chuckle, remembering something my parents once told me a few years back, when we visited Ireland. "Back home, there's another city near where I lived, where it was tradition to be hung upside down from your legs and you had to kiss a stone. I hated it."

Mission laughs at the image of me being dangled by my feet to kiss the Blarney stone, which I don't find very amusing. "You kissed a rock that a ton of other people did too? Sounds… unsanitary."

"Hey! You were the one exploring the sewers when we met," I joke, remembering the sheer stink of Taris' vile sewer systems. "And you told us that you and Zaalbar went down their all the time! I went there once, I feel like I needed a shower. Or eight."

Score one for me, I think. Would you like some ice with that burn? I'd do the victory dance if the perilous edge of doom wasn't a meter away on either side.

"Whatever," Mission pauses for a moment, and gently pushes me. Towards the edge. Holy shit!

"Hey!" I shout, biting down on my lip, regaining my balance as I do so. "That's not cool at all! You trying to kill me?" Seriously, that's not cool at all, you blue coloured demon.

"If I wanted to do that, I wouldn't have taught you how to fight," Mission teases, winking, "Just let someone else pick you off. Wouldn't have been difficult, given how you fought back on Taris."

"Yeah, well," I stammer, trying to think of a come-back. Nothing in debate classes ever helped with this kind of argument. The only case she has is that I suck. Which, while not a bad case sometimes, I can't say I totally agree with it. There were times that my parents might say that, but I got a feeling they would be rethinking that if I showed up at home now.

A hiss comes from the front of our group, where Darius has been leading us through this forest, but now he's busy looking around a makeshift corner: a rather thick tree. Whatever works, but what's he even looking at? I glance over, where he's putting a finger to his lips, the unspoken command for us to "shut the hell up," as I was taught in my makeshift military training. Which, honestly, hasn't helped too much. I think it was just so that I wouldn't totally suck in combat, and could understand a bit more about what's going on. It worked in that regard, but I wouldn't exactly consider myself to be of the military men. At all. The only weapon I was trained in was a pistol, that's not a grand accomplishment reall.

"There's three humans just around the corner," Darius says, standing up and glancing over the tree trunk again. "Orange outfits, looks like Czerka."

"Love men in uniform," Mission says, a touch of sarcasm trickling through her voice.

"Well, Czerka soldiers shouldn't be a problem," Bastila adds, "Czerka Corporation allowed us to pass into the Great Walkway; they're bound to have a few operations out here."

"They're armed to the teeth. And they're standing over a corpse. So, I'm not betting on them being friendly at the moment," Darius rolls his eyes, "Did the Jedi ever teach you to survey an Area of Operations instead of just sitting around?"

Bastila crosses her arms, and scoffs. Looks like annoyed Bastila is coming around now. "Are you just … trying to get on my nerves? Or must you be so infuriating all the time?"

"Probably the second one," Darius admits, producing a silver cylinder from his belt. Oh, yes. That's awesome. What colour is it, hopefully not red, I don't want to die from some awful dark side choice. Why is it that red lightsaber means Sith Lord, anyway?

"You just enjoy this, don't you?"

"Alright, alright," I cut in, waving a hand when I'm close enough. Bickering is pointless, and it's a bit sickening, really. "Enough with the whole… flirting. Why don't we just go past, see if they want to kill us or not?"

"Flirting?" Bastila stares right at me, accusingly. Oh, I didn't mean it, especially since you've got that cool laser sword of yours. "We were discussing-."

"Stephen's got a decent plan," Darius interjects quickly, "We're going to see if they're jumping down our throats the instant we pass by."

I look at Mission quickly, raising both my eyebrows. That was one fast answer. Love is in the air with those two…I ought to point out their intentions more often if it means I get compliments…. Even if Bastila's going to end up in a very unpleasant situation later in this whole adventure. I mean, getting captured and siding with the Sith doesn't lend itself well to Darius'… Revan's story. I mean, what if she ends up dying? She's not my friend, I'd say, but we get along well enough.

I thought hits me like a hammer, and not exactly a pleasant one. The fact that Bastila stays behind later changes the entire plot of the end of this game. Captured by the Sith, turned to the Dark Side… She'd be the whole reason that Revan/Darius _is capable _of taking the "evil, kill everything" dark side path. Assuming I don't find a way home first, there's no rule saying that I can't try my best to make things better for everyone else. Even if it means putting myself in a really, really bad situation. I won't bank on it right now, but… I could ensure that Revan stays light side. How many lives could I save that way? I wouldn't have thought they were actual people, but over three weeks… And seeing all those lives lost on Taris… They were real, and with my own knowledge, I could have somehow saved them.

I shouldn't make the same mistake twice. Assuming I don't go home first, in which case, it's not really my problem

Someone slaps me on the back, nearly knocking my sunglasses right off my head. I adjust the frames quickly, my attention coming back to the world in front of me. I nearly shout at Canderous, who's smirking at me, but think the better of it as the rest of the team rounds the trunk and we find three Czerka officers standing over the body of a Wookiee. Oh, this part.

"You know how much one of these things costs?" One of the Czerka men says, looking at his leader, who's wearing a newer, crisper uniform, complete with a hat. Hats are cool. Just not if you're balding, then you're compensating for something.

"We'll work it out later," the commander sneers, turning to face all of us, not surprised or intimidated in the slightest. "Something you want, spacers?"

"We're just headed through here," Darius answers, "But first, you're going to tell me exactly what happened here?" He doesn't shout, but he grabs the Czerka tool by his neck, pulling him dangerously close, enough that he could probably smell the man's breath if he wanted.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" He spits, dropping the blaster rifle on the wood walkway.

"Your worst nightmere. Why's this Wookiee dead?"

"It got rebellious and we had to put it down," the man squirms, trying to break free of Darius' iron grasp, to no avail. "You've got a problem with that, human?"

"Maybe I do," Darius snarls, "Your superiors approve of you killing Wookiees?"

The Czerka officer continues to struggle before answering the question. He glances over at the rest of us, Mission in particular. "What? You trying to get me to admit incompetence, you alien-lover?"

Before I even realise what I'm doing, I whip out my blaster, prompting the other two Czerka pawns to produce weapons of their own: poorly made, run of the mill blasters, though mine isn't exactly much better. Still, doesn't make me feel any better about my own choice of weapons. Fuck it.

"What? You're going to shoot me, you shit?" The officer asks, glaring right at me. "You don't have the balls for it."

"It's not my choice to make," I counter, focusing on Darius. "Though, I wouldn't mind leaving a shot or two right between your eyes."

"You're done here," Darius threatens, not even using the Force to sway the man into his own opinions. "Understand me? Take your patrol off-world, hell, I don't even give a damn what you do. The enslavement stops here, with me, otherwise, I'll shoot you all and spread your organs all over this forest."

Holy shit that was dark side. For a light side reason. Stephen, stop trying to sort morality into a white-or-black system, that's what kills RPG games.

"I don't have to listen to you!" The man snaps, finally getting free of Darius' grasp, falling to his knees. "Kill them, all of them!"

"Who do you think you are, little man?" Canderous taunts, his own weapon starting to hum to life.

Darius nods to us, his face carrying a hint of regret. He thumbs his own weapon, a green bar of plasma rushing to life before all of us, a _snap-hiss_ temporarily drowning out the sounds of the jungle just for a moment. Bastila's own weapon creates the same sound, two identical yellow blades emanating from her own weapon, Darth Maul style. Looks like her default style it is, then. Now there are two Jedi, I think we're in good hands, given that one is Jennifer Hale.

Before the Czerka officer can even make a dash for his own blaster rifle, Canderous guns him down with more bullets than are really necessary, and the man collapses in a heap on the ground. His two underlings, in confusion, don't even know what to do, and start firing at our group, I guess as fast as they can manage. I dive to my feet, rolling back behind the tree trunk… A vey Hollywood style move that probably is about as tactically sound as singing your enemy to sleep.

Size is on my side, if I was any bigger, I would have just flopped on the ground, which honestly would have been pretty embarrassing. I'm not sure if Mission would have ever let me live through that one. I ignore the pain in my side as I wheel towards the tree… and then slam into it head first. Couldn't have gone better.

Fuck! That hurt! Still, beats being shot to death, I guess. I stumble to my feet after my antics, grabbing my blaster off the ground. Safety, off. Good. I double check the power cell in there, the displays says its' good for twelve shots. Not the best gun in shooter games, normally you get around fifty to infinite shots, but twelve's enough to make it count. I move out of cover, leaning past Mission to line up my shot.

Having fired enough times in practice, the recoil is nothing new, so I'm not thick, and trying to push the gun back down anymore. I squeeze the trigger of the blaster with the tip of my finger in rapid succession, rewarded by several blaster bolts flying through the air to my target. One of them grazes against his arm, another flies right between his legs. Damnit, so close.

I dodge a shot, and ready my weapon to dispatch the Czerka pawn once and for all. The instant I grip my weapon with both hands, a beam of energy whizzes nearby, like a boomerang with a taste for blood. The weapon cuts through the man, and returns to the hands of its owner, Bastila.

"I had him," I remark, frowning, "No need to show off like that, Bastila."

Without anyone else to cut down without mercy, Bastila deactivates her lightsaber, holstering it to her side. "I wasn't showing off, I simply had the physical practice needed to dispose of my target. Practice that you lack."

Oh, that's uncalled for, you Jedi.

"I dunno Bastila," Mission pipes up, "Seems like someone could use the Force for fights and for fun. You know, trip someone up that's really getting on your nerves."

Bastila looks appalled. "I would … never do such things. The Force is not a toy, nor a thing to be trifled with. You both wouldn't even be old enough to understand the responsibility involved with commanding the Force."

Mission bristles with anger, a reaction I expected, given how she flared up when Carth poked at her age back on Taris. "A crack about my age? You're not much older than Stephen _or_ I, miss high and mighty-."

Without so much as a warning, Mission falls to her feet, and the leaves around her fly about a sudden gust of wind. Confused, the Twi'lek struggles to get to her feet, giving me a strange look as I'm laughing my head off. I offer her my hand, pulling her back up.

"That's _not_ funny," Mission says sternly, brushing herself off.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Mission," Bastila shrugs, putting on a good poker face. "But now is not the time for this, we really should proceed along with the task at hand."

Bastila walks over to Darius, who's just a few meters ahead of us, checking over the corpse of the Wookiee that was murdered by the Czerka soldiers. Carth and Canderous have joined him, leaving Mission and I in the rear guard. My typical spot, I think so that I have more of an excuse for why I can't hit my targets very well.

"I'm going to get her," Mission hisses, grabbing her shoulder in pain.

I laugh at Mission's expense, but stop before she threatens to shove my over the side, which is enough to get me to shut the hell up and be nice to the lady.

I fiddle with my blaster in its holster, absolutely paranoid right now. Between the run in with Czerka, and the drone of the wildlife, I've had enough of this planet to last a lifetime. But that's not the worst part, I definitely remember the area down the Walkway – there were three Sith standing there, waiting to gut all of us with lightsabers. Cover and shooting is one thing, but if the bad guys have energy beams of doom that'll cut my head off like that bounty hunter in _Attack of the Clones_. In a war where there are Jedi and Sith, why even bother having someone like me here? Just send someone with a lightsaber, the all-powerful energy blade. Then people like me are headless and out of a job.

Not a time to loose one's head.

"What so funny?" Carth asks, looking over at me, catching me laughing at my own private joke.

I glance over at him, but keep a solid look around the walkway. "Nothing. Just thought of something ... Just… Screw it"

I think about trying to explain my bizarre line of thought, but stop before I even get a single word out. My own little joke comes from my advanced knowledge of all this, and my other interests back home... I really do have to lie to my friends here. For the first time, I feel… guilty. I mean, I realised I could make things better, there's no telling what I could do… As long as they don't lock me up in an insane asylum or something. I don't know if I can keep lying to all of them, not after everything we've been through. Is that fair to them?

Bastila's been lying too, though. About Darius' real identity.

That thought alone gives me some solace and comfort. Okay, I can do this. For now. Just got to bury who I was, where I'm from. And possibly what I know. Unless it keeps me alive. That would be lovely.

"Looks like we've found the tree house," I mutter, squinting to see a massive structure on the end of the walkway, guarded by several armed Wookiees, most who were sporting sharp and wicked blades. Standing alongside them, hunched over and defeated, is Zaalbar. Looks like they got to him already. They sure move fast, then.

"Weapons away," Darius says, holding an open hand up, standing completely still as three Wookiees walk over to us, growling and snarling to one another. "We're not here to cause any trouble," he declares to the Wookiees, not a trace of fear in his voice as one of the creatures stands a foot away, towering over him, ready to rip his arms out of his sockets and beat him to death.

Nerves of steel, that one.

"What's Zaalbar doing here?" Mission asks, running towards her friend, before one of the beasts stops her, cutting her off with its massive body. That same warrior says something in his native tongue, and given what I know about this game, he's saying something about how they found Zaalbar and brought him here. Fun with his family, I bet.

"It wasn't my choice," Darius explains to the Wookiees, the whole ordeal sounding like an unusual, one-sided conversation to me, "I'm here on behalf of the Republic Navy and the Jedi Council, Zaalbar has nothing to do with this. He swore a life debt to me, and asked to stay on my ship. I'm here on my own mission."

After a few barks and growls, the Wookiee steps back, and marches towards their village. Darius follows, meaning that we should do the same. Talk about being the party leader, I guess. I avoid the gazes of the natives as I step through the gates of the Wookiee village, my eyes straight ahead. I'm not starting an incident today, not if I can help it.

In a matter of moments, our group is shuttled through what has to be the most confusing setup a village could possibly have. The Wookiee guards simply push us along, so that we can't even gain a point of reference, a clue where we might actually be. The whole trek finally comes to an end in front of a massive tree, with a door constructed on its exterior. Before I can even wrap my head around his strange, alien concept, one of the beasts pushes me through the doorway with a shove, hard enough that I nearly face plant onto the floor. You ass.

"Nice friends, Zaalbar," I remark as the door slams shut behind us. I stand to my feet, taking in the room as quickly as I can. Okay, a lot of Wookiees, one of whom is so egoistical that he has a throne of sorts. I think Darius and him would get along nicely, then.

That lead Wookiee in this room, darker than the others, says something to me, his barks carrying an undertone of annoyance or anger. Have I offended?

"Hey, look, I don't speak-."

Darius interrupts me, planting a hand over my mouth, moving faster than what should be physically possible. "I wouldn't say anything. That's their leader, and he just said that if you don't change your tone, he'll rip your head off."

The colour must have just drained from my face, given how my stomach just feels like it went inside out, and if I was less disciplined, I would have probably just wet myself. Stay calm, keep your head. Literally, in this case.

I breathe a huge sigh of relief the instant the Wookiees seem to ignore me again, and Darius removes his hand off my mouth. I'm keeping that shut, anyways.

"I demand that you release Zaalbar," Darius demands, using the same tone of voice he employed against Czerka earlier. Shit's going to get real if he keeps this up.

The Wookiees addresses Darius… Chuundar! That's his name, Zaalbar's brother and head of the tribe. That little sell out, hopefully we can get rid of him before we get the hell off this disgusting planet. He's the one that got Zaalbar exiled from this planet, and he's working with the slavers… A pretty obvious one, now that I see the two Czerka soldiers flanking Chuundar… Guards. Lovely.

"I'm not doing your dirty work;" Darius snaps, "You work with Czerka, enslave your own people, and keep Zaalbar hostage. Why would I work for you?"

Mission looks surprised when Chuundar continues, and whispers in my ear, giving me a head's up as to what's being sad. "Z's brother says that he knows where the Star Map is, and if we want it, we're going to have to kill a … mad-claw. An insane Wookiee."

Ah, yes. Chieftain's dirty work. Well, mister tribe mate, I don't like your system, and I'm surely not part of your tribe. I don't want to tell stories like C-3PO or something equally thick.

* * *

Ten… Fifteen minutes, maybe. This feels like it's taken an eternity. Back and forth between a language I can actually understand and another I can't is not pleasing to listen to at all. I hate Wookiee-speak. Barks, growls, howls and roars. Who decided that a language should be based off that?

"It's a nice web of lies you've constructed," Darius scowls, "But the truth will get out eventually."

"He says: I guide what the Wookiees think, no one will believe you, not even my mad-claw father," Mission translates for me. I nod solemnly, glaring at the Wookiee's "honourable" Chieftan.

"This might be our only option, but I would proceed with caution, however," Bastila advises to Darius, looking somewhat upset with this choice. Can't say that I blame her, but…

"Let me take Zaalbar with me," Darius argues, "I need a guide if I'm going into the Shadowlands."

Chuundar shakes his head, and barks orders to his underlings, including his Czerka minions. Once more, the Wookiees flank us, and herd us away from Chuundar and his seat of power, practically shoving our group out the door, leaving Zaalbar behind.

"Stay here, big Z," Mission shouts, "We'll be back for you!"

Zaalbar yells back, his words cut off by the Wookiee's makeshift door slamming behind us, sealing us away from Chuundar and our lost companion. Poor guy, we'll get him back, I hope. I would be even more annoyed with the Wookiees and their speech if I didn't already know this quest. Find Freyyr, Zaalbar's and Chuundar's father, and kill him. Well, that's the dark side option, and I'm really hoping that it doesn't come to that.

The obvious downside that comes to my mind is that we have to venture around on the surface of the planet. Where nobody comes up from, really. What's with these planets and their deadly surfaces? First Taris, now this awful jungle mess.

"Well, that didn't go quite as well as I would have hoped," Bastila mutters, adjusting her robes after being manhandled by the Wookiees. "Still, the Wookiees gave us a valuable clue about the Star Map's location, even if it is on the surface of this world."

"What about Zaalbar?" Mission asks, ignoring Bastila's points entirely, "We can't just leave him here, not when his brother is the reason he's exiled. We ought to go back for him."

Canderous voices his own opinions, snorting before he does so. "Yeah? What's your suggestion? We just charge in and try to take him back with force? We're out numbed ten to one, at best. Even worse, if you count for his skills," Canderous points right at me, a jab at my usual combat skills. Oh, sod off.

Darius frowns, "We'll play along, for now. As dirty as Chuundar is, we're not in a position to go against him."

"You're … you're right," Mission admits, "I thought the Wookiees weren't fond of the slavers, but Chuundar's giving his own people to Czerka? That's … awful. Zaalbar never said why he left Kashyyyk, now I see why."

"Judging by our welcome, I think I was right, as always. Wookiee's don't like outsiders at all." Darius says, starting to walk to a platform near the middle of the village, where a thick series of ropes snack down out of sight, a platform rigged to it like a basket. A lone Wookiee stands guard, tinkering with the primitive elevator.

"That's not the worst part," I scowl, eying the platform, "We're going to a lovely place, as always."

"No one said this was going to be easy, "Darius smiles, trying to lighten the mood, earning a nasty look from Bastila. "Besides, you can hide behind me."

I chuckle, mostly to humour the man, but I can't help but notice how Darius wasn't even really looking at me as he boasted: instead, he was making quite an effort to have his words caught by Bastila. Now, I'm all for boasting, but if you pull that kind of stunt… Something's really up.

"Unlock this basket, and take us down," Darius commands to the Wookiee sentry, who worldlessly lets us board the "elevator." I'm the last one in, barely finding space to stand without slamming my armour against someone else. I awkwardly squeeze in between Bastila and Carth, nervously smiling when they look at me.

This is going to be a long trip down.

I keep my gaze locked straight ahead, nearly getting sick over the edge when the elevator lurches downward, towards the pit below. I desperately grasp onto the flimsy, wooden rails, closing my eyes, in order so that I don't look up, down or anywhere. Seeing the trees move as we descend is just too much for me. Not to mention, this thing is about as flimsy as possible, and shudders as it heads down. If it snapped and raced downwards in a mad rush, I would not be surprised one single bit. At least there's no elevator music. That would probably push me over the edge of insanity.

"This is going to take hours," I mutter, opening my eyes, to find that we haven't moved that much, if at all. Carth and Bastila have moved away from me, and Mission settles down next to me, taking a seat, and her legs are dangling over the side. Geez, she's going to fall!

"Maybe," Mission admits, not looking concerned at all. I look intently at her, if only to spare myself from the sights around us. I got to stay sane, and if it means having an excuse to look at Mission, hey, that works too. "But really… You don't think this is nice? The forest and all?"

"No," I answer gloomily, "I've said it before in the sewers. You don't take me anywhere nice."

Mission blinks. "Well, the sewers were… sewers, but it was a fun little adventure, right? You and me, Darius and Carth, looking for Zaalbar? Fun times."

I shake my head, feeling queasy as I do so. "This isn't better. But, I don't have to wrestle a Rakghoul this time around. That was awful, and all because I forgot to click the safety off. Noob mistake, nearly got my head bitten off."

"Dantooine wasn't bad, then," Mission jokes, "Except for your endless complaining about working out."

"That's because it sucked!" I defend myself, remembering my frequent complaints after firearm training. "I remember you were pretty eager to teach me how to properly shoot something, if only to make me suffer. So no, not that nice either. This isn't a vacation, but we could do with one."

"You don't get vacation days yet, Private," Darius interrupts coldly, "And you won't for a long time."

"Maybe we'll take a day off, stop somewhere relaxing," Mission says, ignoring Darius' jab.

I doubt it, unless that's Manaan. Yeah, when the Sith will be jumping down our throats, and I'll have to wear my stupid, idiotic uniform. Fun, no. Not to mention the fishy people with their fishy laws. Bah, here's to hoping that we travel to Tatooine first. Though, I did say that before I found we were going to Kashyyyk.

"I doubt it. We're heroes now, got to do a lot of dirty work," I say, sighing as the basket lurches, enough that for a moment, I feared it was going to flip over. "But if you're offering, or something… I could use some downtime, and you could pay me back for all those training sessions on Dantooine…"

That sounded pathetic.

"Are you asking me on a date?"

Fuck. How can I be so transparent and thick?

"Meh," I dodge the question, knowing full well that the rest of the party's eyes are boring into my skull. "Depends if you're offering."

"If you won't man up and ask me, fine," Mission rolls her eyes dramatically, "I guess I am offering, since you won't do it yourself. Next opportunity we've got, it's a date."

Holy crap. I got out of embarrassing myself too badly, and I barely had to do anything. Alright, I'm literally on a roll today. I mean, two hours ago, I thought it was weird and stupid that I have a crush on a fictional character, even if she is real, here in the flesh. It's a strange thing, though, I feel like I've met a new person, not the one in the game, but at the same time there's all those similarities to the digital creation found only in a virtual world.

I shrug it off, I'll sort out my own personal feelings later. That kind of crap isn't really my speciality; I'm just going to go with the flow for the moment. It didn't really work back home, though, made for a few very short relationships were I was kind of pulled into them, never actually having a serious relationship. Not that this is serious!

The elevator comes to a stop on the forest floor, I didn't even notice that we made it down already. The air is even thicker here, the pressure is noticeably higher too. I take the first step, jumping onto the ground, half expecting it to be squishy and soft, like the swamps in Georgia. I was unpleasantly surprised the ground was rock-solid, probably enough that if I leapt, I could break my legs. I can barely see more than two feet in front of me, as dark as it is. The only thing that's helping me out at all is a fire in this main area near the elevator.

My hand flies to my blaster pistol, vividly remembering this area from the game. This is where Calo Nord fights the party, that vile midget bounty hunter that survived Taris apparently. One of the more difficult fights, and I'm not doubting that's the same here. Especially since I can't use gameplay mechanics to my own advantage anymore, and if I die, there's no reloading to save me. I'm just a corpse.

I pull the weapon out, pointing it all around the clearing, but I don't see a single thing alive, just a few animal corpses that haven't been eaten by other wildlife. I almost pinch my noise at the smell, but think better of it, I need to stay alert for hostiles. Calo's around here somewhere, right?

"Private?" Darius asks nervously, stepping off the wooden platform, along with the rest of the group. "What is it?"

I don't answer for a few seconds, continuing to search the clearing in desperation. When it finally becomes fully apparent that we're alone down here, I holster my weapon, feeling exceptionally stupid.

"Nothing," I lie, my senses on alert, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. "Nothing at all, I guess."

I'm quite possibly terrible at undercover operations.

This far down, the sounds of the forest are much quieter, I'd have to guess that all these vile animals just hang up where the Wookiees do. That doesn't make these Shadowlands very inviting, if things down here are so bad that the Wookiees and other animals… It was always said that if you went down here, odds were you weren't coming back up.

In fact, after all that noise up above, the silence is worse, scarier by far. I feel like anything could leap out of the darkness and gobble me in one single move. As if it'd help, I still my breathing, trying to see if I can hear anything at all. Nothing more than a hint of wind rustling through the wind… And something swinging, a whooshing sound… Sounds a lot like a …

"You hear that?" I ask, shattering the silence with the sound of my own voice, "I think I heard a lightsaber."

Bastila and Darius look sceptical, giving me disapproving looks, especially Bastila. I stay quiet, waiting for them to finally notice the sound, as faint as is it. I smile when realisation dawns on both of their faces. Looks like I'm right for once.

"One of the Sith?" Bastila asks, a bit of a rhetorical question since none of us are supposed to know the answer to her question.

"Let's go find out, if it's one of the Sith, we'll kill them," Darius bluntly says, practically rushing off away from the clearing. Sighing, I follow suit, practically sprinting to keep up with Darius, I'm slowed quite a bit by my armour, and I already feel like I'm out of breath, the elevated temperatures of the forest really isn't helping me out here, sweat is already forming on my forehead.

At least the running doesn't take too long, between ducking underneath a massive log and through another clearing, the origin of the lightsaber was in the distance, obvious for all to see. A purple blade holding back the darkness, slicing through a pair of massive, four legged beasts.

"Well, it's not red," Carth says, "I thought the Jedi sent anyone else on this mission…"

"They didn't," Bastila replies, "Violet is also used by the Sith, however. We'll need to be careful."

We all head for the glowing light, no longer running, and the owner of the weapon is merely two meters away now. Even with the purple blade illuminating the clearing, I can barely see him, but I think I've got a good idea who this bloke is. Jolee Bindo, local crazy old ex-Jedi.

Nearly the instant we approach the man, his weapon vanishes, the violet blade completely gone. That is one cool weapon, I must say.

"Careful," the man warns, his voice sounding just as it did during the game, wise, but just a bit sarcastic, "There are more of these beasts crawling around the Shadowlands. I suggest you turn back, there's nothing down here but death."

Morbid.

"That's not an option," Darius says, smiling confidently, "My name's Rayner. Darius Rayner. It's pretty refreshing to see a Jedi down here."

"Bah!" Jolee scoffs loudly, "I'm neither a Jedi nor your master, so don't coddle me, child. But my name's Jolee Bindo."

"You use a lightsaber in combat. So, you're either a Jedi, or the Sith. The latter are my enemies. It's not healthy to be my enemy."

"I'm just a stubborn old man, who's tired of the foolishness of others," Jolee says, stepping towards us, "A lightsaber doesn't mean anything, I just know a few things."

"I can feel the power of the Force within you, old man," Bastila observes, tapping into that all-powerful, uknown power she's always going on about, "But I don't sense the taint of the dark side… I think you are a servant of the light, despite what you claim."

"Both extremes annoy me," the old man snaps back to Bastila, before turning back to Darius, "You're here for the Star Map, aren't you?"

Darius nods, a motion that I almost miss, given how little light there is down here.

"Of course, the concerns of the Wookiees don't amount to anything in the eyes of the Jedi, no… You're here for the Map. And you won't get to it without my help… My help has a price."

"Can't I just pay you or something?" Darius groans, "I hate jumping hoops."

The silence of the Shadowlands is back, a cold reception to Darius' complaint.

"There are literally walls in your way," Jolee Bindo says, sounding particularly fed-up with Darius' child-like attitude. "Walls that Czerka have put up down here, in order to maximise their poaching operations."

"And you want us to get rid of them, right?" Darius replies blankly, "I'll do it, I guess. Mission, Canderous, you're with me. Old man… Just tell me where to go, and I'll deal Czerka... again."

* * *

At least with two lightsaber wielding warriors, I actually feel pretty safe, even down in the Shadowlands. Bastila, Carth, Jolee and I figured that waiting out in the middle of a poorly lit clearing was a pretty stupid, idiotic idea. Instead, we're sitting under a log, sitting on stumps. Well, Carth and Jolee are, since they don't seem to mind where they're sitting. Both Bastila and I refused, and would rather stand. I can't speak for the Jedi princess, but putting my ass and a mud-covered stump sounds like a primitive and barbaric adventure back to the Stone Age.

Most of our waiting session has been utterly silent, there's just nothing for us to say to each other. I'm not going to force them to speak or anything. We all get along a hell of a lot better when Darius is here, our centre of gravity that we all rotate around. I don't know him as well as I should, but he certainly has that charismatic ability down well. The rest of us are just along for the ride, really, for our own reasons.

Hell, I wouldn't have even signed up for this mission if I had didn't know that was the only way off Taris. Carth's known Darius for a while, and Bastila and Darius had all that time together during their Jedi training.

"Bastila, I got a question for you," I say, drawing everyone out of their own silent thoughts, "You know Darius better than I do… What's up his ass today?"

"If you mean-."

"Doing people's work for them is up my ass today," Darius says aggressively, as he strides towards our makeshift residence, "Czerka's gone. I made sure of it."

"Really?" Jolee says, surprised. "I didn't hear the sounds of battle… You spared them."

"Mission and I disabled their equipment. Easier than killing them."

"Really? I'm sure the wildlife would have preferred their corpses… Enough with that, I'll accompany you, and you should be able to find your Star Map."

"You want to join us?" Darius asks, raising an eyebrow. Yes, Darius, he does. We could do with some more "familiar" faces. Besides, he's got some nice stories too.

"You've got a fast ship, I'd bet. I'm damn tired of the trees and the Wookiees here. Their Chieftan is as good as destroying their culture as dropping corpses full of diseases."

"Yes, well, I'll deal with him later… Welcome aboard, Jolee. Looks like we're stuck with you," Darius offers his hand to the older ex-Jedi, who returns the gesture, sealing their deal for good.

Despite everything that's changed from the game, some things are still staying the same, which makes me pretty pleased. My precognition isn't totally useless.

"So, you got rid of Czerka?" I ask Mission, as soon as we're next to one another again, once more in the back of the party, with Jolee guiding all of us up front. "Without even shooting them. I'm almost surprised."

Mission glares at me. "I'm good at things besides drinking and running, you know. It wasn't easy to take down their sonic devices, if I do say so myself. Had to put some moves on the guards, so they'd give me the access codes."

Even if her job was part of our big, grand mission, I can't help but feel jealous… and angry. She just asked me … sort of… on a date!

"Yeah? And you did that with your Nar Shaddaa rules, huh?" I spit, not even trying to stay cool anymore. "Or did you offer him a date too?"

That was harsh, and I can tell it had the intended effect.

"No, it was strictly professional. Unlike you, I'm good at what I do!" Mission shouts angrily, "But no, you're always jumping down my throat, every frakking chance you get."

I don't even think about what I'm saying anymore. "Well maybe that's because I'm not talking about how I love men in uniform, or playing strip pazaak with everyone."

"So basically you're jealous, even though I told _you_ we were doing something when we got the chance? You're an idiot. I could kiss you right now, and you'd still be a paranoid mess!"

"Yeah, why don't you try it then?" I'm starting to calm down, but I'm still pretty damn angry, enough that I'll see if Mission's actually going to back up her intentions from earlier. This might be the stupidest thing I've ever done.

Before I even know it, a hand snakes around my waist, pulling me a good foot or two, my outfit pressing against the light combat armour Mission's being wearing since Taris. I flinch from the sudden movement, my eyes sealed shut, even though for a split-second, I knew what was going to happen, and not from my pre-cognition, just that I've got a brain lodged somewhere in my head.

I chuckle as soon as I'm able to, not removing myself from Mission's grasp.

"Interesting crew you've got," Jolee says to Darius, behind us. "This ought to be exciting."

"Hardly the word I would use," The Jedi mutters, "Break it up, teens, you're making me sick."

"Sod off," I cheerfully reply, not at all insulted by Darius at all.


	12. Chapter 12: Forest Affairs

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 12: Forest Affairs

**Author's Note: Sorry about the longer wait. I told you guys that I was going to try and get this out quickly, because I had a spring break and such. I planned on getting a lot more done than I did… The reason for that is that all of the sudden illness of my dog. Yeah, I know a dog isn't too important… I've had him since he was a puppy, six years ago. And he had to be put to sleep. And then someone in my family (not anyone too close to me, but still…) passed away yesterday. Horribly sad though, kept me away from writing, really. I just wasn't … there.**

**On other news, I do want to thank you guys so much for all the reviews and comments thus far. Even the favourites and subscriptions, they really do mean a lot to me. In a more difficult time like this one, I can't help but cheer up when I see that I've gotten more than one-hundred-fifty reviews. The reason I keep writing, that's it. I've worked hard, forced myself to write this one. For you guys, the fans. Things are getting better on my end, but it was hard to make myself write here. And I just saw that this brings me to 100,000 words. So far I've come, eh?**

**Enough moping, onto the chapter, you say. Right so!**

* * *

"Trust is like a vase... Once it's broken, though you can fix it the vase will never be same again."

~Unknown

I ought to reconsider putting my sunglasses back on, even though it's around pitch black down here. I knew that from our little adventures up above that Czerka was pretty dense, but honestly, I can't even imagine why this was thought to be a good idea. If I was a hungry monster with lots of teeth and claws ready to rip little humans to shreds, I'd bet a giant light would be a good place to start looking for my next snack.

However, given that the next snack would be me, so I don't like this idea anymore.

Jammed right in between two massive trees, is a metal gateway, something that's already incredibly out of place in the middle of a forest, especially one filled with dangerous and deadly animals that gobble people up for light snacks. But that couldn't be the worst part, given my own track record. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if there were a thousand mines placed around the only path in the forest, by someone that specifically wanted to get rid of one Stephen *****.

While not as dramatic as explosives, a massive purple energy field projected between the metal frame just spells "Hey, I'm right here, so eat me up." I can barely see through the force field, so it's not those cool ones you find in _Star Trek_ that keep you in the brig… Though just about every alien species managed to get through those… Or the power would go out and you get sucked into space. I got a feeling that this isn't going to be quite so interesting here. I continue trying to look through, hoping to see anything that would confirm that what's ahead is the same as what I think is going to happen. Who ruddy knows anymore. A lot of things have changed from the game.

It's kind of hypnotic, really, staring at the simmering purple sheet. Like looking at a lake, but I wouldn't put my hand in it, might be vaporised or something equally science-fiction like. Besides, I've got a decent collection of heroes that are currently between me and the Czerka force field, with Jolee, Darius and Bastila standing in front of me, but I'm close enough that if something's going to pop out and kill of us, I'm still in trouble.

"Why the hell would an idiot put this here?" Darius scowls, taking his eyes off the purple sheet, "It'd be like putting turrets facing the wrong way. Who's honestly making these decisions?"

"It's supposed to keep some of the larger animals out of here," Jolee replies, "There are more of these, all placed at key points. The only problem is that it relies on the animals to be walking, rather than climbers…"

"So the Wookiees don't have any problems around it?" Darius asks, frowning. "What's the point? Anything that flies will go right on over, too."

"Walkers are cut off from key points," Jolee says, tinkering with a panel on the metal structure, "This area down here is the most dangerous area of the forest, not even the Wookiees dare to come down here."

"Great," I mutter, slouching as Darius seems to stay on alert, almost excited by the chance for combat. What a nutty psychopath, at least he wasn't grown in a tank and that's all he cares about. I should have found a dimension where Darius had one of those stupid, random names, and is so goody-light side that it's not even funny. He's honestly got me worried, and that whole "hey, I might turn evil," wouldn't surprise me at this point. Not much would, anymore.

"Whatever, it's in our way, and I want to get moving," Darius snorts, "You said you could open it right? I'd hate to bring along an old cot that can't get rid of this force field."

"My, my. I thought I had my share of impatient children in my time!" Jolee declares, laughing as he rips a panel off the metal structure. "It's much easier to open from this side… How did that Czerka engineer do it?"

I raise an eyebrow, amused by the sight of an old man fiddling with wires and cables, even when sparks start to shoot out, landing at my feet, and bouncing off my armour, leaving little black scorch marks. Ah, well, I'm completely resigned that I'm going to look pretty stupid in this getup, I guess that child on Taris was right… I look crazy, but I'm not jumping from building to building in jeans and a t-shirt, Nathan Drake style.

After a few long minutes, the field evaporates, completely gone, and its low drone of energy is gone from the many tracks of the jungle. Feeling pretty confident, for once, I walk through the metal archway between the trees, following the two Jedi, and the grumpy old man. Almost the instant after I'm underneath it, something makes a clicking noise, drawing my attention away from my own walking. What's it doing, anyways? I frown, right as a few sparks fall from above me. Oh, shit…

At what had to have been the last minute, I throw myself out of the arch, pushing my tired legs as hard as they'll go, even against the weight of my armour, I manage to get some lift off the ground… but not good enough it seems, a burning feeling rips its way through my right leg. I nearly scream in pain, holding my limb in my hands once I practically collapse onto the jungle floor. Keep it under control, Stephen…

The constant humming of the energy field means that the thing must have turned back on, and it sure was powerful enough to knock me on my ass. I wait for a few moments, ripping the cloth on my pants, and the sight of a nasty burn greets my eyes. Wait a great way to start exploring these "even more dangerous areas."

"You alright?" Darius asks, wincing as he looks my leg. "We can't leave you here, anyway. You're going to have to keep up." I can even tell if he sounds sorry for me, or if that's just another order that I'm supposed to follow. I can't figure this guy out, and I didn't even realise that when I first got here. Darius Rayner isn't limited by pre-selected lines.

"Can the field be deactivated from this side?" Bastila says to Jolee, putting a hand over the energy curtain.

"Certainly," the old man answers, "It'll take a few hours, and it's much more complicated on this end. Some sort of effort to keep anything from getting out of this area of the Shadowlands."

"Carth!" Darius shouts across the field of energy, "Take the others, and head back up to the Wookiee village. Keep an eye on Zaalbar, if you can. Bastila, Jolee, Stephen and I will be back if we find the Star Map. If you don't hear from us in twelve hours, we're dead."

Are you kidding me?

"You got it, boss," Carth says, his voice barely audible over the energy barrier's drone. "See you then."

I force myself onto my feet, ignoring the sharp pain in my leg. Just a burn, not like I've broken anything. I grasp for the emergency medical supplies on my belt, pushing past the two grenades I own, gritting my teeth when I shove the required needle into the muscle above the wound. Not as futuristic and clean as you would think, but hopefully that'll get the job working.

"I'm ready, but I'm _going_ to hide behind you now," I joke, limping behind Darius, already feeling the pain start to subside. I whip out my blaster pistol, and the Jedi pull out their own unique energy weapons. Portable flashlights that can be slice clean through anything. Yeah, that'd really help me out here.

"I thought you might see it my way," our leader says, smiling, despite the ever-present danger. "I'm _always_ right, you know."

"Do you feel that?" Bastila asks, frowning, perked up like a dog that smells something far off, her sixth set of senses triggered by something down here. Hell, I can even feel something isn't right – the hairs on the back of my neck are tingling, a creeping sensation is traveling up my spine, and I even twitch when the feeling passes high enough up my back.

The "Lower Shadowlands," as the map was called in the KotOR game, is even more dark, dry and generally disgusting than the rest of the forest floor. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that this place was a desert – the air is devoid of any life, not even moisture to heat things up. An anomaly, given how humid it was up in the treetops. It's just… unnatural here.

Because a planet that was created from the mind of a game designer is quite natural, Stephen.

I ignore the pain in my body, trying to see … anything down here. Even a flying mosquito would be welcome at this point, rather than a very obvious lack of life. I can barely see, now that the purple energy field is behind us, the glow of the Jedi's lightsabers being the only torch to hold back the endless dark void – a void filled with things ready to kill us. After all, there was that monstrous beast down here. The… Damn, what was it called? Terentatek? Something like that.

I frown, nervous about being out here. So far, fighting with all these guys has gone pretty well. The occasional scuffle doesn't last long when there's all of us going against the bad guys. Now, there's just me and two Jedi… and an old, grumpy ex-Jedi. Still good odds, but this _is_ where Wookiees go to die. Even the idiotic Czerka Corporation thought the animals down here were too dangerous, sealing them off with a barrier – an asshole barrier, since it busted me up, to be sure.

The pain in my leg spikes up, I hiss in response, trying not to give into the urge to grab my leg for comfort. That won't do any good, really. Okay, just breathe in, the medpac ought to kick in really soon. I'm no fan of medicine, those endless commercials back home were enough to taint my opinion of the drug industry – but when it comes between screaming around on the jungle floor in pain, then being eaten… Or surviving, I'm going to have to default to the option that lets me live to see another day. Another day that might take me from this reality, to my own. Back home.

It seems so far away, and after what? Three weeks? I'm starting to doubt I'll ever get there. The rush I had felt from initially finding myself in the world of KotOR has pretty much gone. The day I tried to send that message to my mother… That's when it hit me. I don't think I'm ever going to set foot back on Earth. Before all of this, I wouldn't have thought that home was Earth. Just home. It didn't seem necessary to think that way.

If anything else, this sure has given me a new way of looking at things.

The silence shatters in one single instant, like one would shatter a plane of glass. A roar pierces through the Shadowlands. An animal is out to hunt, and it sounds pretty damn close. Another noise, that of a tree snapping –a twig snapping amplified by a hundred times. Oh, that's a big one. I don't know how big – but a glass of water to match the thunderous footsteps would help with that, I think. I'm just hoping that nothing _that_ big comes out and gobbles us up.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Darius mutters in front of me, his annoyance practically dripping from his voice onto the jungle floor.

Another roar, and the source of all this commotion unveils itself – the very same beast I was thinking about earlier, the Terentatek – probably twenty feet tall, armed with massive limbs and claws to match, likely sharp enough to really mess someone up. As it triumphantly howls, green saliva flies from its mouth, spraying Darius and I with a vile-smelling substance. Monster spit. My features form a look of disgusts as I try and wipe away some spit with my sleeve – a bad move, though, since it meant that my clothing was coated with slime.

"Fuck!" I shout, moving to the side as the Terentatek charges forward, the ground shaking, and the monster racing for all of us. Okay, don't panic… Don't panic too much that is. There's only a man-eating beast.

I check my surroundings, nearly running into a broken-down tree, I'm just fair enough away from the Jedi that there's barely any light, the flashes of yellow, green and purple occasionally lighting up the darkness, sometimes the light being blocked out by what must be the beast.

Okay, back on my feet… right leg isn't doing too badly at the moment. I reach for my blaster, grabbing it off the jungle floor. Blink once, make sure that everything stops spinning around.

I take as best aim as I can, given the circumstances, and let loose on the beast, smirking when half a dozen blaster bolts slam into the monster's side, and it roars in protest- and swats at Bastila, the Jedi nearly flying four feet backwards, her double-bladed lightsaber's yellow glow winking out of existence, only the violet and green lights left to hold off the darkness.

The light from my blaster, red in colour, dashes across the forest clearing, almost unimaginably fast, much like a bullet shot from a gun, towards the massive, lumbering target. As stupid as I can be, I can still manage to hit something that's simply so damn massive. The finer elements of targeting aside, I'm finally rewarded when all the blaster bolts slam into the beast's thick hide, vanishing from existence. The creature barely seems to notice at first, as if I simply chucked some rocks onto it or something, but turns to face me, its beady eyes working something out, doing some serious problem solving back there. It roars again, the sheer volume nearly knocking me right back down… But the roar was nothing but a prelude to its thunderous charge towards me, finding a new target to terrorise and consume.

Oh shit.

I scramble, not even trying to take another shot – especially since it's not going to do a single ruddy, damn thing. Luck of the draw, as always. I keep going backwards as fast as I possibly can, not taking my eyes off the Terentatek. Got to find something to hide behind, or a rocket launcher. That ought to really do the trick. Without much warning, the ground underneath my feet is no longer even and easy to walk on, and I fall backwards, comically looking like a turtle… Just one that's ready to be eaten.

"Fuck!" I shout again, hoping to get someone's attention, draw one of the Jedi back over here to save me.

No luck still as the beast stares down upon me, one of its massive claws ready to wrap around me. I jam my eyes shut, blocking out what little light there is anymore, and trying my best to ignore the feeling of being lifted off my feet. Even with my eyes closed, I'm not going to just go down _that_ easy – but squirming in the hand of a beast doesn't really do a lot of good at this point. The retched stench of the Terentatek's breath, complete with moisture seeping from its mouth getting ever closer… Is this seriously how this is all going to end?

After Taris?

And what about Mission?

Hell, if everyone in games gave up, you wouldn't have much of a game anymore. And this is kind of a game, right?

Making up my mind, my eyes fly open, trying to avoid the sight of gaping jaws, a maw leading to certain death, only a foot or so away. What a wonderful smell I've discovered, that's for sure. Okay, what have I got? Blaster… No, that's gone, must have dropped it when this thing got a hold of me… Come on, think… One of my hands is trapped at my belt, what have I even got down there? Emergency medpacs… those won't work here. Wait…

I nearly laugh, my hand settling right on one of the two grenades that Darius gave me along with the new firearm, when I passed all those stupid tests and examinations to get through and "join" the Republic Navy. I never saw the point of an explosive ball before now, and even in the game, never used grenades. In a real-world application, we're talking about me here, and I can't throw anything further than meter or two.

A meter will do right now, though.

My fingers try their best to pill the mechanical pin off the fragmentation device, the maw coming even closer than before.

Now or never…

The clank of the grenade flying into the open jaws of the creature must be the most fantastic sound I have ever heard.

The world around me blurs, as I fall a solid distance back to the ground. Sweet, lovely, perfect ground, I miss you.

I look up, my eyes widening as the beast rears back, grabbing its jaws in what I can only presume to be pain, agony. Yeah, you deserved it, you ass, that's what you get for messing with me!

My silent gloating has no effect on the monster, but it does face me once more, and spits a literal gallon of blood at me, even worse than the saliva from before I was nearly consumed for a little snack. That's just disgusting. The smell… I puke my insides out, vomiting out my last meal onto the clearing.

"You alright?" Darius says, running to my aid, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

I weakly nod, adding a bit more sick to the considerable pile, but thankful that I could see thanks to the green, pulsing lightsaber light.

Sadly, that means that I can see that Darius, too, is covered with spit and blood.

"I told you to hide behind me…" Darius mutters, preparing his lightsaber to finish off the Terentatek once and for all… I hope.

With Bastila and I both out of commission, my only choice to watch the work of Jolee and Darius Rayner versus a monster. If anyone could beat it, I have faith in him. It's funny; he's just a blank slate in the game, a piece of paper that the player can impart upon. But after three or four weeks, I still don't know a lot about him, and the fact that he's actually a brainwashed Sith Lord is just a nagging piece of knowledge that I've all but forgotten. Almost, but not quite, of course.

I wipe my face off as best I can, while at the same time trying to keep my own sanity intact, as the Terentatek faces off against Darius and Jolee, the beast dwarfing both of them easily… Though if Bastila is out… Who's that third one? Looks like a Wookiee… I wonder what happened to them hating on us. ..

The next few moments pass in a blur, the world slowly distorting around the battle… Hell, I can barely see anymore. If that's from fatigue, being tossed around like a rag-doll, or simply nearly having your leg cut off by a force-field, I have no idea.

* * *

Fuck. I must have blacked out.

I push myself back to a sitting position, eyes darting back and forth, looking for anything familiar. Just damn trees, engulfed in the dark, empty forest.

I better start counting my shadows. If I have two, I'm going to cry.

Okay, good, only one.

The familiar _hum_ of a lightsaber catches my attention… Where is that stupid, glowing sword?

Almost an instant after wondering, all three colours come to my attention, the weapons of Bastila, Jolee and Darius. Fantastic, we all made it. And a Wookiee. Doesn't look like Zaalbar…

"Hey, we picked up a friend," I mutter, standing next to Darius. "At least we killed that damn thing, by the way."

"You smell terrible," Darius says, waving a hand to try and clear the air. "This is Freyyr."

Freyyr? Didn't that big, bad Wookiee Chieftain want us to kill him? Oh, yeah. Zaalbar's father… Used to be Chieftain, too, until he got kicked out by Chuundar's coup. I hope that hasn't changed, since I still don't understand a word of Wookiee-speak.

"Yeah, I've heard about you, mate," I say, offering a hand to the Wookiee. A vice grip nearly rips my arm off as he shakes it, my eyes watering as I desperately wait for our handshake to finish.

The Wookiee, Freyyr growls and huffs in response, finally letting my arm go free from his grip of death. Once my limb is no longer in danger of being crushed, the Wookiee just ignores me, turning his attention – and speech – back to Darius. For the better, I can't follow a word you're saying, mate. Better save the growls for someone that can understand you. And apparently I stink. Things keep getting better and better.

"If you're taking the long way back up the village, that'll give us enough time to finish our own business down here," Darius says, strangely diplomatic. Wasn't he the same man that nearly threw a Czerka officer around earlier? "With your directions, we should be able to find the Star Map in no problem at all."

The Star Map. Plot device in the game, a leftover piece of technology scattered all over the galaxy – it's always the dead, forgotten races screwing everything up. Protheans, Forerunners… Ugh, Science Fiction writers really could do with a healthy dose of originality now and then. Still, once we find this one, there's only so many left. Clues to the location of the Star Forge, the end of the game. Hopefully Darius decides Tatooine should be our next destination.

"Let's go," Darius says, the man suddenly close to me, breaking my thoughts, and dragging me back to the real world.

Real? How do you define real?

"Sorry," I nervously whisper, feeling like an idiot. Having been knocked out, and caught spacing off… Bad form for a fledging Republic military soldier. Let's change topics, avoid my constant stupidity. "What did I miss when I was sleeping? Sounds like we're not going to kill the Wookiee… Right?"

"We're not helping Chuundar and his Czerka slavers," Darius explains, his voice icy cold. "I don't like being lied to either… You know that Freyyr is Zaalbar's and Chuundar's father?"

"No, I didn't…" I lie, suddenly finding it more important to slip behind Bastila and Jolee.

Dropping the conversation there, I'm thankful for the darkness, hiding what must be a painfully obvious, guilty expression.

I've lied before, but I can't remember a time that I've felt this bad about it. Not just that one omission of fact, but all the deception and misinformation I've spouted thus far.

* * *

"You think it's big enough?" I ask, surprised by the real-world Star Map structure.

Finally, a clearing with lights, illuminating a massive tower. While not as endless, reaching into the foggy sky – like Kashyyyk's trees… This structure is nothing to scoff at. If we weren't so close, the grey metal that was used to construct the tower would blend in with all the tree trunks.

Located in front of the tower, though, is a small, glowing blue pedestal, and the folded-up frame of the Star Map. Not quite as impressive as I would have thought, honestly.

"There it is," Jolee says, ignoring my commentary, "There's an obstinate little machine that runs this. I've tried tinkering with it a few times since I was down here, but I haven't had any luck with it."

All of us simply stare at the machine, now quite close to it. Finally, what I'm expecting becomes a reality: a hologram, two and a half meters tall – a ghostly, sickening blue rockets to life in front of us. All of us, even I, jump… Jolee looks less startled than Darius and Bastila. He did say he used it before, and I think there was some ridiculous statistic about how much he tried to use it.

Unlike _most_ of the aliens that I met since being displaced from Earth, this hologram was not human at all. With a massive, conical head and eye… eye-stalks latched on either side, darting back and forth like a predator watching over its prey. A Rakatan, the race that left the Star Forge and the Star Maps behind. Not that I'm really supposed to know that.

"Life-forms detected, determining parameters," the hologram says, its unblinking eyes boring right through all four of us, in turn. It settles on me last, and I just… feel like it's looking at me, longer and harder than the others.

Just paranoia, I think. It has to be.

"Begin socialised interface. Waiting instructions," it continues prattling. Its head snaps towards Darius, the closest to the computer, addressing him in a much more human tone, not quite as robotic as before. "Greetings. This terminal has not been accessed for quite some time."

Darius runs a gloved hand along the computer's frame, frowning. "Who placed this terminal here? What is your purpose?"

"Error!" The machine shrieks. "Subject displays unfamiliarity to environment. Behavioural reconfiguration will be needed before access. I am sorry, I did not mean to confuse you. I will answer questions to the best of my programming limitations."

Having taken a step back, Darius blinks. "Right… What exactly do you mean by…? Behavioural reconfiguration?"

The hologram happily continues on, apparently time is not a consideration to a machine. "I have been programmed with a very limited field of knowledge, and I must restrict access to only those that fit the pattern allocated within my memory banks."

"Since Jolee has been here before, is he one of the allowed patterns?" Darius asks, gesturing to our new companion.

After a few moments, the machine answers. "In the past five years, two individuals have attempted to gain access to original system memory. Three attempts by the Wookiee Freyyr, all denied. Human Jolee Bindo made one hundred and fifty two attempts. All denied."

I raise an eyebrow, while Bastila shoots a glance towards the ex-Jedi.

"What? Call me stubborn, I guess. There wasn't much else to do down here, you know."

Before I can say something suitably witty, a voice interrupts. "I utilise a retro-adapted Holocron-interface. Clarify your questions, and I will attempt to access original system memory."

Darius scowls, starting to pace around the computer, deep in thought. "Original… That means something really, really old. The Star Map, am I right?" Darius puts a hand to his mouth, clicking his fingers when something suddenly makes sense to him. "Better question for you… Who built you?"

"Error. Corrupt data. Extrapolation in progress. This utility was built to monitor planet-wide agricultural reformation. It has since malfunctioned. It can be theorised that the super-growth of Kashyyyk's forests is a direct result."

"Is there any actual proof of that?" I ask, shrugging when everyone else looks at me. "I'm just curious…"

The machine says nothing, completely silent, only the rare passing animal noise keeping us from total and complete silence.

At the same time, I can hear something. A voice. Not spoken, but I can hear it nonetheless. It sounds insane to say it – or like a stupid science fiction story, but I think I can hear it in my head.

_You are not of this reality._

It wasn't a question, a statement, but it was spoken in the voice of the hologram.

"Malfunction occurred two hundred and one years after last Builder communication. Last Builder communication was twenty-nine thousand, six hundred forty two years, seven months, six days and thirty three minutes. Republic time standard unit of measurement."

Even though the hologram has continued its pointless and annoying speech, I can still feel the prescence in my mind, an unwanted intruder, ripping through my memories as if they were pictures in an album. I can see the images as the machine searches through them. One of my early birthdays, another with me and my mum.

_Pitiful creature of flesh and bone and mind. You do not belong here. You will be deleted._

"If this place was built thirty thousand years ago… It predates the Republic." Darius says, surprised.

"It makes sense, given what the droid said in the ruins back on Dantooine," Bastila muses, but her words are just heard on the edge of my hearing, everything drowned out by the voice.

_Your kind have ripped through the walls of reality in other universes. It will not happen here. Not when the Builders dominate all of their creation._

I ignore my memories being scanned, the images of my life flashing through my mind's eye. Got to focus, try and send some sort of message back. I try my best, purging all other thoughts, and just say a reply in my head. Okay, don't think about elephants.

_I don't understand_, I "say" back, right as a memory of my high school years flies past.

"Error! Information regarding the builders of this installation has been corrupted. Probably that this information was removed by previous user: one hundred per cent."

_You are an anomaly, slayer of your kin, you will be purged from the glory of the Builder's creation._

"Original system memory, though? You mean the Star Map, right?" Darius says, pointing at the folded object just a meter away.

_You're searching through me. My memories. Look in there. I know what happened to your Builders,_ I think desperately, trying to fend of the voice from ripping through any more of my mind.

"You will require behavioural test in order to gain further access. Should you fail, you will be rejected as unsuitable," the hologram answers, not a trace of anger, disdain or emotion in its voice. "Evaluation commencing. Results will be compared against the pattern in memory. Just act like you should."

_You are a lie. The Builders transcend time and space. Your words are tainted with a false truth, a fake reality. _

"You travel with a Wookiee and have encountered complications. Hypothetical: you and this Zaalbar are captured and separated. If you both remain silent, one year in prison for each of you. However, call Zaalbar a traitor… He will serve five years, while you serve none. Both of you are offered this choice. Which do you pick?"

"It seems to be looking for a very specific answer," Bastila says, "How does it know Zaalbar's name, though?"

"I know what happens on Kashyyyk, and a great deal further," the construct answers, "This question is for you, not your companions." An unspoken "Fuck you" to Bastila, clever hologram.

_My knowledge is infinite, it is of the Builder's wisdom. You will be deleted. She is coming._

Darius' words barely register in my mind; they might as well pass in one ear, and right out the other. "I would accuse Zaalbar to be safe… Oh, yeah. You can't be too careful with those Wookiees, right?"

"In this instance, the Wookiee is unreliable. His family has been a mire of treachery," The hologram says, as if our private chat is not actually happening, "I judge your answer to be correct."

_Who the fuck is "she"? _I mentally force the words out, taking more effort every syllable.

"Hypothetical: You are at war. Deciphering an intercepted code, you learn two vital things about your enemy. The first, a single spot in their defence will be at its weakest in ten days, and they will attack one of your civilian cities in five days. What do you do with this information?"

_The hunter from the reality that is no more. A universe ruined. A fate that will not befall the Infinite Armada of the Builders._

"I leave the people in the city to die," Darius laughs, "And then I can have victory against my enemy, of course."

_The Rakatans. They … died,_I think, smugly. Take that, you alien-eyed freak. You look like one of those cone-heads. _All burned up, and yet you keep worshipping them. How does it feel? You said you hadn't heard from them. You know why!_

"You have matched the pattern in memory. I recognise you, and will fulfil my designated function." A hint of despair seeps into its speech, but it doesn't sound fake or synthesized anymore. It really sounds defeated.

I breathe a massive sigh of relief when my mind is alone was more, and the hologram disappears from the physical world as well. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that someone slipped something powerful into my food or drink.

Too bad this whole experience has taught me so much.

I stay silent, watching the three prongs of the Star Map structure unfold, a beautiful galaxy map projected between them –a three dimensional, coloured hologram of the galaxy, albeit chunks of data missing. The infamous bits lacking from each map –if one contained all the data we wanted, then we would only need to go to one planet. Instead, we're going to five different worlds. Dantooine, now Kashyyyk. The rest of the group needs to go to Tatooine, Manaan, and Korriban. If I could get off and head home during Tatooine…

It really is beautiful though, the map of this galaxy. Not my galaxy, but it's a sight nonetheless. I guess this is where the impractical galaxy map comes from…

Despite the image, something doesn't feel right again. A tingling sensation, an urge in the back of my brain… What the fuck is this?

"It doesn't seem surprising that we found the Star Map down here," Bastila says, noticing my subtle shivering and shaking. "It's an artefact of the dark side, it's why you can feel that something is wrong, an impulse or creeping feeling."

"I can't help but wonder if that's had an impact on the creatures that have lived down here," Jolee replies, "Not that we exactly have time to test it, however."

"Alright, old man, we're headed back up to the village with Freyyr. You want to stay behind and watch bugs grow, be my guest."

Well, Darius is quite a hard-ass today.

There is no small talk between the group anymore, the four of us marching back to the shoddy and poorly built Wookiee lift. Even the others know what's going to happen – if we side with the former Chieftain Freyyr against Chuundar, it can only end in blood and death. I mean, who wants to have people murder his own father? Fuck you, Wookiee.

The rest of the gang; Canderous, Mission and Carth, were supposed to have headed up there already. With any amount of luck, Freyyr should be heading back to the Wookiee village as well.

So all the pieces are lined up for a good old battle.

Why does it always have to end in a damn fight?

All four of us walk (and in my case, limp) into the clearing, the fire still illuminating the area – and the four angry Wookiees standing around the lift, their teeth barred, and the reflection of the fire present across their faces.

Serious shit, it looks like.

One of them angrily spits at us, growling and moaning like the Wookiees always do. This time, though, it actually makes sense. I nearly jump up and down with excitement; no longer must I stand around like an idiot, now I can understand aliens!

This is brilliant! Hell, this is the dog's bollocks!

"_Outsiders!"_ The Wookiee howls, "_You brought the mad-claw back to our village? Defied the wishes of the mighty Chuundar?_"

"Yeah, I did," Darius replies, not batting an eye at the Wookiee's intimidation. "Your leader is working with the slavers. If you won't see that, I'm sorry. I'm so, very sorry for you."

The closest alien lunges forward, impossibly fast, but Darius and the two other Jedi are even faster. Darius meets the Wookiee's movement with one of his own, slamming a fist into the alien's body – and then producing his weapon – the lightsaber, the blade appearing in thin air with a _snap-hiss_… and plunges deep into the Wookiee's torso, emerging from the creature's back.

I follow the movements of my companions, hand instinctively whipping out a blaster pistol, and ready the weapon to fire. The quiet sound of the blaster warming up rewards my well-practiced motions. I fire at the most distant Wookiee, who is still drawing a fierce looking sword – landing half a dozen blaster bolts into the alien's massive body.

Only a few moments pass, and the other two Wookiees are no more. A strange feeling works its way in my gut, a feeling of … remorse? Disgust. Killing is never easy.

I silently holster my weapon, following the others onto the platform, saying nothing as Darius and Bastila work the lift, forcing it to travel back up the relative safety of the treetops, the ground beneath us rapidly vanishing in the dense fog, while the air becomes steadily more thick and humid. As we ascend, the noises of the jungle return, a welcome sound after the relative silence of the Shadowlands, where death was commonplace.

Death has been commonplace on this whole adventure, a shadow even looming over the happier times of our trip thus far.

And we've got quite a way to go. I mean, the rest of them do.

I might not be the most compassionate or caring of all people, but so many people have died. Fuck, all those people on Taris. With all my advanced knowledge, there had to have been some way to save them. Or talk the Wookiees down here, I don't know. Something, anything.

"I would have thought that the problems of the Wookiees don't matter in the eyes of the Jedi," Jolee says, breaking my private thoughts, "Just the Star Map."

"That's why we… originally came here," Bastila replies, glaring at Darius, who seems completely oblivious. "Still, it was decided that removing the Wookiee Chieftain would be beneficial for the population."

"Don't forget Czerka," Darius mutters.

"Chuundar's as effective at destroying Wookiee culture as dropping corpses full of flu. It's good that you're working against him," Jolee says, "I was never going to interfere with the Wookiees. Maybe today we'll make a difference."

After a few moments, Bastila and Darius start their own conversation, one that I can barely hear over the animals and wildlife.

"I'm surprised you're going to destroy Czerka," Bastila whispers to the other Jedi, while I pretend not to hear anything at all. "Given what you said to the Star Map's … guardian, I was starting to doubt that you followed the ideas that Master Zhar imparted on you."

"There's a difference between lying to a computer, and actually believing any of that. Can't you tell I was being sarcastic?"

"It troubles me to see you act that way," Bastila hisses, not aware that I'm listening in – and I'd bet Jolee is too. Oh, yeah, he totally is. "The call of the dark side is strong, and even the smallest steps can lead you there."

"Bah, you can help me then. Blink once for dark, twice for light, how's that?"

I stifle a laugh, turning it into something of a cough. Don't mind me, please.

"You're just trying to irritate me, aren't you? Always making your stupid, childish jokes when you should be taking things seriously."

"You're pretty cute when I've touched a nerve."

"Touched a nerve?" Bastila says, no longer whispering. "No, but you are getting on my nerves. This is important, after all the destruction that Malak and the Sith have wrought-."

Darius' mood stops dead. "Like Taris…"

"Millions dead, and far more suffering. For the sake of the galaxy, I hope you can keep your emotions in line for once."

Love is in the air. Love … and possibly a fist in the man's face, if Darius keeps this up.

Finally, the lift finally locks into place, back up to the walkway built by the Wookiees. I step off first, thankful to be off that damned piece of engineering, back on fresh ground. I've never liked elevators, and I _really_ don't like lifts when they're going miles and miles up and down.

Ignoring the mild pain in my leg, I follow the winding path, the others in step behind me.

* * *

After being practically dragged into the heart of the Wookiee's village, the sight of the biggest, ugliest fucking Wookiee is never a pleasant one. Especially if that is Chuundar, flanked by a captive Zaalbar and Freyyr. Is that the plan? Walk in here and get captured? It's not a very good one, but it's better than no plan at all. Actually… Let's just come up with something on the spot, it works well enough in movies. Big alien spaceships floating over every city? No plan… Let's put a virus in there! Oh, for fuck's sake.

Never mind that you have to write a virus for a specific operating system.

At least Mission, Carth and Canderous are all here, instead of mucking about nowhere. Hell, in KotOR, a good amount of the crew was forced to stay on the _Ebon Hawk_ for quite a while – unless you randomly swapped them out whenever you'd like.

As the Wookiee and Czerka guards bring us before Chuundar, I can't help but feel a bit better about everything when I see Mission, and I shoot her a cheeky, lopsided smile and a thumbs up. Too cheesy, maybe… and she rolls her eyes. Fuck it.

The tone of this whole confrontation has radically changed since the last time we met Chuundar. While I've just been able to understand him, the Wookiees sound much more angry, agitated and upset since the last time we were in their village. When we were brought into their main hall, dozens and dozens of other Wookiees were out of their homes, talking amongst each other – often in hushed whispers, some even staring at us. Freyyr's return has started something major.

No white, dead tree for major symbolism, though.

This was a major fight in the game, not quite a boss battle – but KotOR didn't exactly have those. No giant monsters… No, not that many, I guess. Except the ones that show up just to kill me. It wasn't the game where you beat some guys, and find out the fucking princess is in another castle.

"_You did not kill the mad-claw!" _Chuundar roars, spitting all over the wooden floor. "_You cannot defy the will of the wise Chuundar!"_

What an egotistical asshole.

"Your reign is over, Freyyr is the rightful ruler of your people, Chuundar," Darius proclaims, "Step aside, and remove your Czerka allies. You've built a powerful nest of lies, but it ends today."

"_I guide what Wookiees think, what Wookiees do. Zaalbar has been listening, too."_

"You know this isn't right, Zaalbar," I interrupt, "Whatever he's told you, even if he's your brother, it's not true. Remember Taris? When the Gamorreans were ready to sell you into slavery? That's what Chuundar is doing to your people every single day."

Zaalbar looks at me, maybe surprised that I can finally understand his language. You're just as confused as I am, mate, honestly.

"This is your last chance, Chuundar," Darius says, both hands open at his sides. If he had been allowed to keep his lightsaber, I'm positive that it would be in hand. "Free us, or die."

Did he just quote _Return of the Jedi?_

"_Never_."

A single word from Chuundar turns the entire building into a death trap, pitting our team and Freyyr against Chuundar, his faithful Wookiee followers, and the two Czerka guards… Not the best odds. But if I survived the damn Terentatek, I'm not being killed by slavers and walking carpets. Hell fucking no.

From the hands of one of the guards flies a set of lightsabers – the Jedi's magical Force powers clearly at work. Wouldn't that be something to have? I'll have to improvise, never my strong point when I played piano. I hate coming up with things on the fly.

While three weapons find themselves in the hands of Jedi, I test my footing on my bad leg as subtly as I can. Okay, that's not exactly a good option. Hands only sparring, looks like. Thank goodness for the martial arts classes I took back home. Helped on Taris, hopefully should help here too.

One of the Czerka guards, still drawing their blaster rifle, makes a move toward me, a clenched fist heading right for my face. I move to the side, chuckling at his poor form, throwing a "big ol' haymaker," no technique behind his moves at all. Having lunged so far forward with his punch, I practically slide under his arm, grabbing the limb and snapping – the noise of shattering bone loud enough over the din of battle.

Okay, that's something I did well.

I snatch up the blaster rifle, and look over it – I'm not forgetting to remove the safety again. Not after what happened when I first arrived on Taris. That Czerka tool left it ready to fire, thank god. I lift it into my arms, smiling despite the ridiculous weight of the gun practically pulling my arms down to the wooden floor. How do you hold this without breaking your arms?

I can easily find the trigger, and start shooting at the other Czerka guard before he does the same to my friends. Even though I shoot like a stormtrooper, one of the blaster shots manages to fly through the enclosed battlefield, and slam into the man's chest, wisps of smoke coming from a vile, deep burn wound. He's a goner. Just another to add to my list of people I've killed, ending their lives in a simple pull of the trigger. Killed by a man who doesn't even belong here.

Fuck, how many children have I orphaned?

I push my thoughts aside, shooting another of the Wookiees – but carefully watching Darius and Freyyr take on Chuundar. Zaalbar has joined the rest of the crew, who seem to have gotten some of their weaponry. Good for them, I guess.

The Wookiee drops to the floor, and I look for another target, only finding Chuundar left, backed into a corner, his demise imminent. I won't have his blood on my hands, and I throw the blaster rifle to the side as if it were a snake or a chocolate snack.

I can't bring myself to do it. I can't even look at him… I know he has a brother and father. Even as evil as he is, enslaving the Wookiees…

When I look back, another corpse litters the floor. None of us look particularly happy about it, and Freyyr bends over the turn his deceased son face-down, no longer looking back at us with open, empty eyes.

"_It's done_," Freyyr whispers in his own language, "_When the other villages learn of what has happened here, it will only be a matter of time until Czerka is removed from our planet."_

"I'm glad to hear it," Darius says, turning to the Wookiee who had sworn a life-debt to him. "Zaalbar, you are free to stay here… With your father and your village. They need you."

"_Someday I will return home, but I swore a life-debt to you," _Zaalbar growls, "_I need time before I can live here again."_

"_Whenever you wish to return here, my son, the throne will be your's, if you wish," _Freyyr comforts his only remaining son, placing a meaty, furry hand on his shoulder.

Wow. King of the Wookiees!

Does the king's friend get anything cool? No, I guess not…

"_You will be the last outsiders to come here for a while, I think_," Freyyr says to us, "_Kashyyyk needs to heal from this ordeal, and the trust towards outsiders is gone._"

I wait for everyone else to leave the Wookiee's building, except Zaalbar, following Mission through the village.

"Nice to see you again," I say, smiling when she turns to look at me. "I take it you missed me, right?"

"Not really," Mission replies, coming across as unusually nervous. Is this the same girl I was playing strip Pazaak with on the way to Kashyyyk?

"Thanks," I scoff, "But I did want to talk to you, now that this whole thing has wound down a bit. You know, about … earlier."

About the kiss, an unspoken message that I'm praying she's going to pick up on.

"Yeah, about that…"

Oh, no. She's sounding really … This doesn't sound like anything good.

"I mean, yeah, it was a bit fast, but…" I stammer, trying to get a hold on my words, "I think we could make this work, you and I. Even if we're on the hunt across the galaxy for some stupid Maps. After all, you still owe me that date, right?"

Mission smiles at that. "Sometime. When we're not saving the galaxy, getting into fights, or stopping intergalactic slaving corporations... No idea when that'll be though."

"Doesn't matter," I reply, and against my better judgement, I slip an arm around Mission's armoured waist. Even though it's awkward as hell, it's a step for us. Who would have ever thought I would fall for someone in a video game? A fictional character? It's not like a was one of those rabid fan-boys or fan-girls back home, I never even thought I was particularly engaging – it's more surprising that anyone would even be remotely interested in _me_.

I guess that's why the three dates I had in my whole life went the wayside – often ending with some pretty poor results. When I get back to Earth… I'll travel the galaxy with a girl for a month or two, play card games, and then maybe I'll have some better chances?

"I've got a question, though..." Carth's advise and words from Taris helped me sort my thoughts out, but it does raise a good point. "How long have you …?"

"Take a guess," Mission answers, winking.

Hey, that's not an answer.

"First glance, right? I am quite handsome, you know," I smirk, forcing a cocky smile.

Mission doesn't look amused, and raises an eyebrow. "Not quite. Besides, you're good enough, for a human."

Ouch.

All the way back to the _Ebon Hawk_, I keep my arm locked around Mission's waist. If anyone asks, it's for leg support, I guess.

That's not the real reason, though. Not at all.

**As always, review… please! It means a lot to me, really.**


	13. Chapter 13: Interlude

Displacement in the Old Republic

Chapter 13: Interlude

**Author's Note: Hey again. Last chapter was a fun one, right? Some romance at the end, some mystery with the hologram voice… But the important part is that we're done with Kashyyyk. I also didn't tell you guys where the crew is going next, did I? Yeah, I know. Stephen's been pining to go to Tatooine, you know.**

**Sorry about the wait, by the way. I've been working on this, but finals and final projects got in the way. You know what that means though? I'm done with school in a few days. Faster updates! And yeah, this one is a bit shorter, but this is as long as I wanted it. Next one, it'll be a lengthy chapter, I guarantee it.**

**Finally, if any of you KotOR fans are looking for something to read, I insist you go check out **_**Antihero**_** by Ryan PM. If you've read anything of his before, you know he's a fantastic writer, and****you should go check out his new fic, okay? Cool! **

* * *

"One kills a man, one is an assassin; one kills millions, one is a conqueror; one kills everybody; one is a god."

~Jean Rostand

I force myself to sit up, rubbing my eyes as my contacts adjust – everything is really blurry. I really need to get these contacts replaced… Do they even have contacts in this reality? I'd get some sort of eye surgery if I even knew it existed, though the idea of them ripping my eye apart sounds about as inviting as shoving a fork in my face.

I put my feet on the deck of the _Ebon Hawk_, practically feeling the floor panels vibrate and hum with energy – the entire ship working as hard as possible, taking the entire ship through hyperspace, faster than anyone from Earth could have ever imagined. Back to Dantooine, Darius said.

After leaving Kashyyyk, everything was something of a mess. I vaguely remember Mission forcing me into the medical bay, and treating my burns appropriately. While it sounds like I might be out of commission for any combat, I can still walk around, so that's something. I'll just be less useful than normal. Not that I'm very useful at all, generally.

After hearing that we had to head back to Dantooine, so that Bastila and Darius could report to the almighty Jedi Council, I pretty much crashed and fell asleep in the port-side dormitory, while the rest of the crew went about their business. I'm starting to doubt that they need sleep, honestly. Not that I would have even noticed if they came in…

I fiddle with the footlocker underneath my assigned bunk, grabbing my "civilian clothes," as in the basic crap I wore on the _Ebon Hawk_. Since my combat gear was stored in the cargo hold, the only other thing in my individual container is my phone and wallet – both of which are pretty much useless at this point in my life. No signal on the BlackBerry, as I found out when I tried to get in contact with my mum… And the wallet's just got my old ID's and some cash, obviously that doesn't mean much here. My credit chit, an electronic device much like a credit card, is in there too… As little as the Republic is paying me, that's pretty useless too. At least I've got some sunglasses in here, too.

All of my worldly possessions right here. Not much to look at.

No history, either. No past.

Just the lies I've told to get here, that is.

I grab my wallet and phone, leaving the sunglasses here. I'd look stupid with them on now, as awesome as they are.

On the way out of the dorm, I notice Carth's asleep on another bunk. Oh… I hope I didn't wake him up. I slip out as quietly as I can, tapping a console after I exit – closing the door to the port dormitory. Okay… Let's see here… Who's even awake right now?

Never mind, I'm taking a damn shower or something. I feel disgusting, especially since it just dawned on me that I never showered after having the monster spit blood all over me on Kashyyyk. That's…

I head for the medical bay, sighing in relief when no one else is in there. Whoever designed this ship, though, we're going to share a few words. Why is the medical bay in the same room as our pathetic shower? I close the door behind me, locking it, and strip down – quickly jumping into the shower.

I finally feel clean again!

After exactly two hundred and forty seconds, the water stops, leaving me shivering and shaking like a madman. Fuck you, Darius, and your stupid rules. I think we could spare enough water that I don't want to cry every time that the water stops running. It's not even good enough to relax in.

That's probably the point. And I'd bet solid money that I would be the only one here that would ever complain about it. Go figure.

This time, though, I haven't been mucking around in the sewers, literally surrounded by shit. Instead, I've been vomited on by a monster.

I never liked Manaan in the game, but at least it should be clean.

Once I stop aggressively trying to dry myself off, and slip back into my clothes, something catches my attention, and it really isn't something that I would have thought to hear on a ship bound for Dantooine. Or a _Star Wars_ ship. Hell, I wouldn't have heard it on Earth, normally. It almost sounds like … singing. And not in English.

Okay, who is playing their music too loud? That drives me mad, especially back when all those stupid teens playing their iPods as loud as they could. They invented headphones for a reason, mates. I suggest you use them!

I stumble out of the cramped medical room, listening intently as possible for the source of the music. It better not be some messed up Cylon song… No, doesn't sound like it, hard to tell with the engines working as hard as they are, making this entire ship sound almost like an airplane- with all the background noise, and an automobile, with all the engine noise too. The worst of both worlds.

After a few moments of standing alone in the main hold, I follow the sound back towards the cockpit, which makes even less sense than someone, probably Jolee, doing something crazy or insane in the back of the ship. I guess there was that stowaway quest in KotOR, with that kid that doesn't speak any languages – but why would that brat attract attention to itself? I'm confused, and I hate being confused.

Never mind that I've been really puzzled ever since I got here. Even more when I met, for however briefly, Selenea.

I almost panic when I see that nobody's at the controls of the _Ebon Hawk_, the seats in front of the controls… Autopilot, I guess. I calm down though, since the spinning blue tunnel is the only thing visible through the windows, the funnel through space and dimensions. It's crazy, I was always told that faster than light was impossible. Yet, here I am.

I poke my head into the quarters in the hallway leading into the cockpit, finally finding the source of all this commotion and mess. Tucked away from the narrow, cylindrical hall, has always been a pretty small room dedicated to communications and monitoring equipment. Since I haven't had time, or desire, to look into every single nook and cranny of this ship, I dismissed this area as just being exactly what was in the game: something neat to look at, but you can't actually do anything in there. Someone beat me to correcting that last bit.

Darius, wearing the same civilian clothes he wore on Taris, has apparently decided that the communications room would be his own private quarters. And despite his "background" with the military, he's a complete slob. He wasn't even on the ship during the two week break we had on Dantooine… I'm not sure how he managed to make a mess, and it's already tingling my borderline OCD senses in a bad, bad way.

I duck under the doorway, taking in the redone communications room as quickly as I can. I notice Darius' combat gear, his gold armour, hastily thrown on the floor, and his lightsaber thrown on top of the pile. Wasn't everyone supposed to keep their armour and weapons in the cargo hold? I guess the boss gets to make the rules, and I also figure that he's allowed to have a shower longer than two minutes. Hypocrite.

Near Darius, who's happily leaning back in a chair, would be a few books. Not actual books, but datapads that I've come to recognise as either being very, very thick manuals, or books. Who needs paper in the future? It's all digital, I guess. I squint, tying to see what those could be... _Tale of Two Cities? _They have that here?

"You need something?" Darius asks, turning the volume of his music down, which was what I kind of wanted to begin with. Problem solved, there we go.

I blink once or twice, still dripping a bit of water from the shower earlier. "Just looking around. Thought I heard some music…"

Darius smiles, turning the sound all the way off. "_Vallon Sonore_. One of my… quirks. I'm good for other things besides killing."

"Pardon me?" I ask, not understanding his first bit at all.

"Never mind," Darius shrugs, turning his chair to face me, but remains seated. "I thought you would be resting after you got yourself injured down there. It's not like there's a need for you to be combat ready."

"Couldn't sleep that well," I admit, frowning. "Besides, once I'm up… I'm up. Not much to do, though, honestly…"

"Well, I thought you and Mission would be -. You know…" Darius smirks.

Oh, you asshole. Well, that's a fair assumption in some ways… given that teens mate like rabbits half the time – at least from what I've heard. But even if we did have a quick little snog in the Shadowlands, that doesn't necessarily mean anything… Well, whatever. Fuck it.

I raise an eyebrow, and try to look as uncaring as possible. "We'll try to keep the romance to a minimum, sir."

I think the Jedi rolls his eyes, but I can't be sure. "Look, Stephen…" Oh, great, I better not be getting some horrible talk. "You don't need to call me sir, really. You're barely a part of the military. Hell, I'm not exactly sure where _I_ am in this whole system. Lieutenant, or a Jedi?"

Wait, isn't there a record? Better watch my mouth, shouldn't curse or say anything really, really stupid. Not that I generally don't do both things on a usual basis.

"Well… Since I'm sort of part of the military, doesn't that mean that whatever I have to say, you're going to write it down and file it under my official record, eh? Given that you're my superior officer. Sort of, that is."

Well, in the prequels, Jedi were sort of like Generals, where the clones had to follow their orders. Given that those rules won't be implemented for some four thousand years – and I'm not a clone, to the best of my apparent knowledge- I'm not exactly sure. Darius said that I didn't have to fill reports out, thank goodness… But does that mean Carth is in charge of me? Oh, the angst!

"Carth will have to write up your fitness reports," Darius says, as if he plucked the information right out of my mind. Can Jedi do that? "But really… Don't worry about it. I mean, this _is_ a Jedi mission after all. We're just doing our thing, I guess. Not much to it."

"That's a relief, sort of," I admit, smiling. "We seem to be doing pretty well so far, right? Two Star Maps down…"

Darius frowns, looking as if a great weight was thrust onto his shoulders. The weight of the entire galaxy. "We've got a long way to go, Stephen. Malak and the Sith get more and more powerful every day. And all we have to go on are half-assed visions and the word of the Jedi Council. Carth's right. Something doesn't add up at all."

Well, he's good at this. I bite my lip as I try to think of what to say, my eyes narrowing as I try and study the man in front of me – the normally happy and eccentric traits all but stripped from him, now he seems to just be consumed by his woes and fears. Who knew that the mighty Darth Revan… could be like this? What happened to the ever static main character that could be counted on to save the day? I'm not asking for Duke Nukem or anything, but hey.

A quick thought works its way through me, and I try and push it away the instant it rears its ugly head.

I could tell him the truth. Right now. Four words, that's all I'd have to do. You are Darth Revan. He wouldn't believe me at all… I don't have any proof. Hell, I could just be some completely insane kid. That wouldn't change anything at all, my words would only be confirmed when Darius learns who he is from Darth Malak – later in the game, that is.

"The Jedi say it's for the best, we've got to believe them," I say, being completely honest this time. He doesn't need to know that the reason I think that would be because I already know what's going to happen.

"That's what Bastila said," Darius mutters, rolling his eyes. "Sometimes the only thing you can get from her is a constant stream of pro-Jedi material."

"I'm sure she means it for the best," I reply, "Besides… You and Bastila seem to be getting along pretty well. At least, from what I could tell on Kashyyyk."

Darius perks up a bit, losing some of his angst. "I'd say you and Mission were doing more than getting along. Am I going to have a problem with you and her, Private?"

"No sir," I say quickly, "I'll try to keep it appropriate."

"Good," the older man nods. "I'm not running some sort of pleasure yacht or love boat here. Fate of the galaxy, keep that in mind. It's not about the fun and games."

Right… Given that you've been eying Bastila up since Taris… Well, that might change soon. Still, keep things professional. More or less. Even if I was confident enough to go up and actually snog Mission again, I better not. That is, if there are people around. Public displays of affection. I don't want to be like all those people that drove me nuts in school. Rules are rules, got to follow them for better or worse.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" I ask suddenly, a few of the events from Kashyyyk vividly replaying in my mind. When Darius doesn't object, I continue on. Okay, I've got to get this off my chest, for better or worse. "How do you deal with all the killing we've done? I mean, I know you told me on Taris that guilt keeps you from being one of them… But…"

"You're worried it's getting easier." Darius says, no question or doubt in his voice.

"Just a single motion," I reply, "and I can end a life. I _have_ ended lives that way. And what makes us better than the Sith, then? There's got to be a better way, or a different option. Otherwise, how many children have we made orphans?"

Darius sits up, but keeps his hands on his legs. He pauses for a few moments, I guess trying to figure out how to even answer that. I wonder if he even has a response. I really have no idea, and it's all coming back to haunt me. Lives I could have saved. People that were dead, all because of me. And I don't even belong here. If some freak event never sent me here, who's to say they wouldn't still be alive? Most of them… I never knew their names.

"For better or worse," Darius explains, sighing, "You have to disconnect. You're not a person in war. Just an instrument. You kill because you have to. To complete your objective. Otherwise, you lose. And in this war… how many planets would end up like Taris? Billions dead, at the least."

"It doesn't help afterwards, though," I exhale slowly, calming myself as best I can. "I just can't become that sort of killer."

"Most of the time, it either boils down to you, or them. That should be reason enough."

I guess that's good enough. What I gathered… is that there's no real way to deal with it. Some people are razors, and can do this dirty work. Some people just can't – not without losing their soul and humanity in the process. That'd be me, of course. Always the romantic when it comes to dealing with concepts and emotions. Damn them.

"You mentioned Taris…" I say, biting my lip, "Do you ever think we could have done something differently? Somehow we might have been able to save …" I frown when I realise that I honestly have no idea what the final death toll was. Billions? Surely not trillions… That Vulkar-held slave I rescued, Gadon and all of his Beks. I knew what was going to happen. Why the hell didn't I say something? I feel sick.

"There wasn't anything we could do, and we had no way of knowing what was going to happen," Darius answers, the shadows around his eyes somehow becoming even more visible and defined.

"Well, maybe," I argue, trying my best not to sound like a child arguing just for the sake of arguing. "I don't know… maybe I could have done something… You know what I mean?"

"We'll be heading down to Dantooine pretty soon," Darius continues, checking an instrument display in the room. "I've got to finish a report for the Council, and present it with Bastila. You're free to go on a few hours of leave, by the way," he tells me, as I start to head out of the communications room.

A few hours off. Not like this hyperspace travel is very hard work. A lot of sitting. I'm good at that. Not so much with the whole running with a ton of armour. I need to find something a bit more lightweight. And possibly something that just looks completely bad-ass. That'd be the most important thing, of course.

I idly wander through the _Ebon Hawk_'s main hold, nothing but my own thoughts running through my mind. Even right now, it feels so… strange to be here. Doesn't seem fake, all the senses are there – the smell, the way the metal floor feels against my feet – I'm not in a fake, video game world… But at the same time… What is this? And better yet, will I ever get used to this? Somehow, I wonder if I ever will. This reality is every bit as real as my own, the only difference being that I know what's going to happen in the future, or at least, what I think should happen. Things have already been really, really cocked up already.

Shit.

We haven't run into Calo Nord. The stupid midget bounty hunter from Taris. Hell, I hate that guy. In the game, he survived – and gets a job trying to capture Bastila for Darth Malak. Lazy sod won't do it himself. But still, the fact remains that he should have shown up by now… Not a good sign. I mean, I guess he could have died on Taris, but counting on something like that hasn't exactly been in my best interests, really. Too many things have gone wrong already. This is one fucked up life I'm living. What happened to the simple one before this?

I run a hand along the ship's hull, and stop my movement through the main hold. A pang of guilt hits me with more force than a hammer.

I'm planning on getting home as soon as possible – what about Mission? Yeah, nothing major has gone on… But… I'm a fucking idiot. Good job, Stephen. Yet another bloody mess you've made. That's all your good for, I guess.

Sighing, I continue my rounds, seeing if anyone besides myself and Darius are awake. I'm sure Bastila will be soon – if she has to debrief the Council, but talking to her – even if we're on decent terms – well, that sounds like it's not worth my time right now. Better terms with Bastila doesn't stop her overly large ego from just pissing me off.

Canderous! That's who I'll talk to! Good old Canderous – after all, me and him are clan… Or something. Not that I should probably bring it up to him without getting my ass kicked. Like I need that right now, given my leg.

I limp into the cargo hold, frowning when I remember that inside here, HK-47 should be as well. We'll have to pick him up, I guess. That good old murderous guy. Or droid… Whatever.

Much to my enjoyment, Canderous looks like he's awake – and not really doing anything of usefulness.

"Hey," I say, nodding as I greet the Mandalorian.

"Stephen," is his greeting, and a similar nod of … respect? I don't know, but I'm starting to feel like we're doing pretty well, us two.

"I take it you've been thinking, about Jagi?" I reply, my memory of the games returning a bit. If I'm right, and I feel like a bastard for using what I know to strike up conversation, he has to do some reflection to do after Jagi. After he… we killed Jagi.

"Yeah, about Jagi," comes Canderous' response, his voice hoarse and rough.

"Feel better about, right, I hope?"

"I… .don't know," the Mandalorian says, "I've killed a lot of people – men, women and children. I'm not proud of it, but I've done it. Jagi was… different. Maybe working for Davik's made me think some things over again."

"Or maybe you just needed a young mind like me?" I ask, laughing in a stupid attempt to lighten the mood. Not very successfully, it feels like. Oh… That's just awkward… Erm…Hang on, let's figure out what to do with that, I guess.

Canderous snorts, not a good sign at all. "You're all over the place, like an animal that was often living on my clan's homeworld..."

Oh! Maybe the Star Wars version of a cheetah or something! That'd just be awesome.

I raise an eyebrow thoughtfully. "Something lethal, I take it?"

"A Gizka, actually. Damn happy pests."

Fuck you! Those things that practically swarm the _Ebon Hawk_ on Tatooine? Annoying pests, too happy for their own good, and they breed like rabbits. Hell, they are just about as close to rabbits as you can get here! I don't even know how to take this!

"Thanks," I spit, putting on my very cross face, looking probably like an idiot scowling his head off. "Gizka are pests, though!"

"They're happy bastards, not seasoned killers."

My scowl wipes itself off my face. That's not cool!

"I don't know about that," I mutter, "I've killed people too." I look right into the man's eyes. "Not as many as you have, that's for sure. It's odd – I never thought that I would kill a man, let alone… How many I'm up to. I lost count, I guess."

"You haven't even started," Canderous frowns. "The things you've done, a _Mando'a_ would have done long ago. When I was your age, I rode a _Basilisk _through a planet's atmosphere, with nothing but metal to save me from death.

I chuckle, remembering the story as told in the game. "I'm not signing up anytime soon, then. I hate bloody heights."

"Shouldn't let your fear control you, you have to continue in spite of it." Canderous advises, as if he were teaching a new clan member the basics of being one of his kind. "If the past is any indication, heights aren't that bad for you – since you leapt onto the ship."

I roll my eyes. Why does everyone bring that up?

"Well, wherever we're going next, I hope it doesn't involve heights, or going around killing a ton of people. Don't you ever get tired of it?"

Canderous barely registers the question. "It's not like there's much of a point in my life right now."

"Yeah, sorry," I apologise quickly, remembering that, as always, the Mandalorians are broken and scattered. Like losing your whole family. "I know what that's like."

When I get a blank look, I figure that's my cue that I ought to explain myself.

"My family is… gone," I admit, ignoring the fact that my eyes are starting to water up. "That's why I've been all over the place, even with the Sith… Just fighting on my own."

"Family is more than blood," Canderous replies, voice quiet.

I nod silently, fingers wiping away the few spots of tears from my eyes. Oh, please don't say anything… I'm such a pansy.

"You-."

Cutting off Canderous, comes the sudden spike in noise from the hyperdrive machinery behind the wall – then silence from the engines. We've dropped out of hyperspace, and back into reality. Back to Dantooine, home of the Jedi. Oh, dear… I don't like these guys, but their days are numbered.

"I've got to find Bastila," I say suddenly, leaving Canderous.

This is important. Time to actually make a change here, save some lives. I owe them that much. If you know you can save them, why wouldn't you make the effort? I'm not going to make the same mistakes twice, that's for sure. The point of them, after all, is to pick yourself back up.

But I'm not Batman.

Doesn't mean I can't save just one life, especially given how many I've taken thus far.

"You make enough comments with the phrase 'Jedi Princess,' and she'll find you," Canderous says as I leave the cargo hold, but I let his comment go right over my head. If there's a Council debriefing soon, she's got to be awake. Especially since Darius is probably moved to piloting the ship… I hope. Given that the engines are sparking again and making a rattling fuss – not to mention the smell of grease and oil seems to have flared up again…. Honestly, we need a cleaning crew.

Wait, if I said that – I'd probably be in charge. I'd be the janitor. Not the awesome one, since everyone already knows my name. Whatever.

Okay, round the corner, ignore the rapid pattering of my own feet against the deck.

"I figured it was only a matter of time until we had the whole _come back to the Order_ discussion."

I stop, realising that's Jolee's voice, the crazy old ex-Jedi…And in the game, that conversation was the one he had with…. Bastila! Well, if you were lucky, that is. Honestly, at least in the second KotOR game, you got the crew to talk without having the stars align… Well, yeah, basically. Not relevant right now!

"I know you've had a troubled past, but how else can you avoid the temptation of the dark side?"

I try my best to spring, ignoring the shooting pain in my leg, racing through the confined corridors, finally finding Jolee and Bastila, standing across from one another, the small conference table in between them. Where the elder human seems relaxed, casually put off by Bastila – the latter was looking pretty worked up. Not surprising, if it's in relation to the Jedi. Ah, she'll relax eventually, I'm sure.

"I've managed so far," Jolee says, as I catch my breath. It doesn't take me hours of wheezing, but I'm still not really fit. "Just think of me like any other non-Jedi on our team, like this strapping young man here!"

I groan as Jolee slaps his hands on my shoulders, taking a very … grandparent approach to all this. I'm not even in the mood to protest, just slouch in a defeated manner, my back turning into an S-shape. I try to look subtle as I grip my leg in pain. Fuck, that hurts.

"Strapping lad," Jolee finishes, smiling. "What's the need for being the Order? Doesn't force Stephen here to make the right choices – same for me… but I've got a lightsaber and Force powers…"

"Yeah yeah," I mutter, turning to face Bastila, "I need to talk to you. Now."

"Don't have time to listen to an old man like me prattle, huh?" Jolee jokes, winking.

I blink twice, my heart pounding in my chest. "Sorry, no. In a bit of a hurry, maybe later?" I try my best to keep my voice level and confident, not easy given the state of my leg.

"I'll hold you to that," Jolee says, "Now… where was I? Children, always messing with my head…"

Bastila and I watch the older man leave the main hold, back to his living quarters. Such an odd old guy. I'd love to share stories, or rather, listen to an old man's stuff, but there's just not time. Especially not for Jolee. I always liked him, but still…

"We'll be meeting with the Council as soon as the _Ebon Hawk_ lands on Dantooine," Bastila tells me, her tone condescending, "Is this important? Or just casual conversation?"

I shake my head. "Important. I…"

Fuck. I can't believe I'm going to do this.

Grit your teeth, you can do it Stephen. You just got to remember, don't take anything too far, and you won't get killed or locked up in a white cell somewhere. If you were brought here for a reason, it wasn't to sit here on my ass and twiddle my thumbs. A lot of people are going to die, and I can't sleep with that anymore.

"I need to talk to the Jedi Council," I finally finish my sentence. Before Bastila can reply, I continue my line of thought. "I know they only see Jedi, but … you've got to trust me on this."

Silence.

Bastila's voice is cold, sharp as a knife. "Trust you? Why don't you tell me exactly what you were doing with the Sith? How you knew about the Sith's weapons over Taris?"

Please, don't do this.

"I just knew, alright?" I lie, sweating. "And the Sith thing wasn't for very long! Just a quick station on…. Manaan! Backwater, nothing interesting!"

Fuck. I'm an awful person. More lies to add to the pile. At least I remember Manaan from KotOR, just a dumb, boring planet.

The woman steps close to me, her grey eyes boring into my own.

More silence.

"You know me, right? More or less," I correct myself, "I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important. And I mean…. Really important."

I'm not asking the whole bloody world here, ice queen!

"Darius trusts you, even if I don't," Bastila whispers. "I'll see if the Council will listen to you after our debriefing."

Thank you.

"I look forward to it," I sigh, taking a step back… I need some bloody breathing room.

* * *

It took less than an hour for the _Ebon Hawk_ to land back in the Jedi Enclave's hangar.

Unlike last time we landing on Dantooine, though, there wasn't any clear weather. Hell, for the three weeks I lived here, it was pretty nice. Sometimes a bit windy, but nothing to complain about.

It's storming now, thunder, rain… The whole thing.

The ramp in the _Hawk_ descends with a hiss, and a whoosh of air accompanies the joining of the ship's oxygen and the air outside. It … tastes like rain, and the sound of the rain means that it's absolutely pouring. Not sprinkling, but enough water to fill up a valley at this rate. Thunder cracks in the distance, and the sky is flashing on and off – lightening running across the sky.

I try my best to ignore the water as I walk through the open-air hangar, but it's sort of a futile effort – once Bastila, Darius and I have a roof under our heads, my hair is absolutely soaked – along with everything I'm wearing.

I hate the rain. Seems like I hate a lot of things, actually. Hate might not be the best word, but I don't have a better way to say that it makes me a bit cross.

I silently follow the two Jedi, but I nearly curse when we cross through a courtyard, drenching me with even more water.

Not a good start.

I refrain from making any snarky comments, even putting a look on my face that would ruin my image here. I have to do this right, or I'm going to get people killed.

For the second time since I was displaced in this alternate reality, I stride into the Jedi Council chambers, already running through my case in my head. It's just like debate, I guess. And the premise: don't stay here and get killed by the Sith. My opponents? The famed Jedi Council, including Vrook – the number one asshole in the game.

I make sure that I stay at the back of the room, as Bastila and Darius step forward to deliver their report.

This is going to be a tough sell.

But I'm not going to repeat my mistakes on Taris.


	14. Chapter 14: The Council

Chapter 14: The Council

"A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it."

~Oscar Wilde

**Author's Note: Yeah, I'm back. Work over the summer must be the stupidest concept ever, especially when you work every day, twelve hours a day. I should have been working on this, but I barely had time to sleep enough. **

**So I wasn't just hiding in Florida or something. If that makes you feel better. Anyways, thanks for all the reviews so far. You guys are fantastic! This one is for waiting.**

* * *

I can't help but feel a little bit like Kreia from KotOR 2… Sitting near the tree in the middle of the Jedi Enclave, waiting while the Council passes judgement on the main character. Oh dear, at least this one won't go down south thanks to those ignorant "masters." Well, actually… What is it with Councils and being full of assholes? Does it just come with being a politician?

At least it finally stopped raining, though at this point I couldn't even care, not only am I drenched, I'm too busy freaking out. Feels like my goddamn heart is going to pound hard enough to burst right through my chest and have a dance party on the ground. But hey, at least that would get me out of this. I really can't believe I'm going to do this. It's probably not too late to back out, I think.

No, no, no…

"You still won't tell me what this is all about, right?" Mission asks, inching closer to me, and placing a single blue hand on my leg, slowing the rapid bouncing to a stop. "Just out of the nowhere, you want to speak to the Jedi – when we all stayed here almost a month."

I sigh heavily, drooping forward even further. "Yeah, that about sums it up. It's just… something I've got to do."

"And that's all the explanation you're giving anyone? I heard you didn't say anything to Bastila either."

Yeah, the less I say, the less likely I'm going to be thrown in a psych ward somewhere on Coruscant. Every single day, I'm leaving in fear. Fear that I'm going to be discovered. That the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_- my friends now, are going to realise that I've been lying, that I know a hell of a lot more about them than they think I do – that I could tell them exactly where these Star Maps are, all of it. I could solve all our problems, not to mention it's kind of creepy that I know about them in the way I do.

"That's right," I reply, "It's a surprise."

Without looking at her, I can tell Mission rolled her eyes, given the loud snort that I could hear over the background ambience here, the wind and those insane flying stingrays. If those evolutionary theory people are right, why would any animal look like a huge ass stingray in the sky?

"Fine, whatever," Mission says. "You know, I was talking to Carth earlier… He's not too happy about having to file regular fitness reports about you."

"Yeah, well, I didn't really have a choice. I'm sure he's taking the chance to write about how suspicious I'm being."

Mission raises a single eyebrow. "I thought you two got over that, after Taris."

Oh, Carth. I love HK-47's mockery of him in the second KotOR game. We need to get to Tatooine for that reason alone. Murderous assassin droids with a sick sense of humour… We've got to get one of those. At least as long as I'm on Darius' side, I'll be on the safe zone from an assassin droid, more or less. HK-47 at least has allies, rather than screaming "exterminate" all the damn time.

"I'm sure Carth doesn't trust any of us," I scoff, thinking back to the many, _many_ conversations with everyone's favourite paranoid Republic officer.

Mission shrugs, and I look back up at her. "Nobody said we had to all be friends, you know. Darius is just leading us on a quest to save the galaxy."

I laugh with Mission, glad to have something to take my mind off what I'm waiting to do. Hell of a lot worse than waiting for the doctor, that's for sure.

"I dunno, Bastila and Darius seem to be getting along well," I joke, remembering their interactions back on Kashyyyk. "Canderous and I have a … erm…" Hell, he tolerates me? "Well, he hasn't punched me yet."

The alien chuckles. "There's someone on the crew I don't know what to make of though. He's all wrapped up in his secrets, and he's pretty much one of our worst people when it comes to a fight…"

Hey! "Piss off!" I raise my hand to give her a gentle nudge, but before I can even go ahead and carry through with it, footsteps stop my heart, and quickly shift my mood back to deathly serious. My eyes dart to the source, finding Darius and Bastila walking out of the Council chamber, with the former looking a bit cross. Did Vrook drive him up a wall? If Dark Side didn't result in conquering the galaxy, it might be worth it to get rid of Vrook… Though he lives anyways, now that I think about it.

"They're ready for you," Darius mutters, walking straight past me, then turning back to face me again. "Don't talk too much to the bald one; he's got a lightsaber shoved so far up his ass."

"I'll keep that in mind," I answer, as our leader walks back to the _Ebon Hawk_, while Bastila stays with Mission and I, arms folded behind her, almost regal and collected – while I probably look like I've been up for several hours or I'm about to have a nervous breakdown. Both of those are true. I wouldn't be calling up Bastila to tell her she's regal – just a bit stuck up or something.

Not important, I remind myself. It's not my objective.

"Good luck," Mission says, taking her hand off my leg, while I stand and simply nod to Bastila. I can barely speak… The pounding of my own heartbeat is back, faster and faster, until it must be too much for me to handle. I keep quiet as I follow Bastila, rubbing my face in my hands, pulling my eyes downwards for a few seconds.

Doesn't help.

Bastila and I turn the corner, and then again, leading us into the large circular chamber, with seats circling the perimeter. For somewhere where Jedi make important decisions, just seems like another room, with six figures on the other side, waiting for us.

Here goes nothing. I'll just have to be sure to not sound insane, and not try and mess things up too much. Even though I've been doing that since I left home.

Bastila speaks first, I just stand next to her, trying my best not to shake or look anything but normal.

"Masters," she says, more respect and admiration present in her voice than I've heard. "This is Private Stephen ******, the … young man I mentioned in my message before our ship landed." Bastila turns to face me. "Stephen, this is Masters Zhar, Dorak, Vandar and Vrook."

I nod as each of them are introduced to me, the Twi'lek, the dark skinned human, something that looks a lot like Yoda, and our bald, grumpy Ed Asner. To the right of Vrook stood a striking woman, clad in white with seemingly matching hair. Atris, from KotOR 2. What the hell is she doing here? And what about the other woman, standing apart from the others, not glad in the robes of the Jedi?

Why is that whenever I think I've got the grasp on something, it turns its head around and spits in my face? You suck reality.

Vandar, who looks like some sort of Yoda clone, speaks first. "Atris, our historian, is also present with us on Dantooine today."

Ah, okay. I look over the woman again, shaking my head as I think back to my old life, when she was just kind of a bitch in a video game. Now I've got to deal with her as well. Great.

"We will have to make this quick," Vrook says, disdain practically dripping into his voice. Yeah, I'm going to tie your house to some balloons… "The Council wasn't expecting your desire to meet with us."

"Don't worry about that, I'm used to dealing with delays," the woman on the far right replies, smiling to me. Damn, a stark contrast to the stone cold faces of the Jedi Masters. Heh, someone with a British accent too. Hey, maybe things are getting a bit better. Unless she's a villain… Regardless, she offers a hand to me, a gesture that no one else has done. "Vice President Miura Vael. I was just here for a meeting after the last one finished. Don't mind me."

"Pleasure to meet you," I reply, a small smile forming on the edge of my lips. I shake her hand, "I take it you're from Dantooine's government?"

Hey, if I don't know something, I better find out. I already seem like a pillock, curiosity can't be too bad. Besides, anything to break the solid ice tension that seems to have formed in here.

Miura nods, her dark hair sweeping across her face.

"Padawan Shan assured us that we wouldn't keep the planet's leaders waiting because of an eighteen year old soldier," Vrook interrupts, his eyes seem to be staring right into me, as if he can tell everything about me. Yeesh.

I ignore the insult, stepping forward to get this party started. A very, very boring party if it's in this room.

"First," I say, remembering every little scrap of experience I've gained either from class speeches, or honestly what I've seen from movies or television. "I'd like to thank you for taking the time to hear what I have to say. I assure you that I'm not here to waste your time, I have some…" I pause for breath, gulping as I try to finish my sentence.

There's no turning back, finish the job.

"Some vital information that might help the Jedi and the Republic as a whole," I continue, waiting for a response. Give them time to take that in, maybe that might take that seriously… Damn, at least it gives me some time to think.

"Padawan Rayner mentioned that Private ***** was known to have collaborated with the Sith in the past," Atris butts in, conferring with the other Jedi Masters, acting as if I was beneath them, no longer important since I wasn't one of the Jedi.

"All the more reason that what he has to say might be important," Zhar argues, "We gladly accepted Jedi that were once Sith, but you would turn away a soldier that made the same choice? You should be mindful of your feelings, Atris."

Oh, burn! I cringe inwardly, though. They think that I made some sort of epic moral choice joining the Republic. I haven't made some sort of choice. I'm nobody, just doing whatever it takes to keep my ass from getting scorched and burned. GlaDOS would have a field day if she were to 'encourage' me…

Damn it, Stephen. Irrelevant.

I keep going, now that Atris has been silenced. "As Master Dorak just pointed out, I used to be privy to a position in the Sith. Thanks to that, I might be able to help everyone out here." Okay, tread lightly, don't sound like a nutcase. Don't give away my full knowledge either. "I think… the Sith are going to bomb Dantooine. Wipe out the Jedi leadership once and for all."

There. I just let it out. All hell might break loose…

Silence.

Miura, not the Jedi, speaks first. "That's why I'm here, Private. After Taris… We all worried Dantooine would be next. We've started a slow evacuation of the civilian population just a few days ago."

What…?

Wait a minute!

"Now that you've confirmed our suspicions, we will push for a much faster evacuation of the local families and merchants."

They were evacuating? I feel like such an idiot…

I frown, realising something. "What about the Jedi? That's who Malak is going after, not the farmers out in the endless, empty plains!"

The instant the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I lost my respectful image, and I'm dangerously close to a whiny eighteen year old prat. Bastila glances at me, I can tell out the corner of my eye. Great. I'm sure I'll hear about this later.

"If the Jedi were to move our Academy to another location, that would just invite the Sith to attack there as well. Even if we had several options, the Sith are dwindling our numbers, and not just from warfare." Vandar looks up at me, looking so much like that green puppet we all loved – not that CGI stuff.

Atris steps in before I can say anything. "Telos was destroyed by the Sith, our first fall back location… The entire planet was wiped out in the blink of an eye. If we remain on Dantooine, we can move the civilians away from the possibility of danger."

It hits me now. "You don't want another Taris," I whisper, just loud enough for everyone to hear me. There's nothing but silence afterwards. "Even if it means staying here when the Sith attack?"

I can't help but feel … respect for a group that I thought I hated just twenty minutes ago.

Not always the best decisions, like they did with mind wiping Revan, but they seem to work regardless. And that's more than I guess most people could even ask for.

"Our youngest Padawans are leaving with the others," Vandar informs me, sighing. "But the rest of the Jedi here will remain."

I shuffle my feet, avoiding the stares of everyone in the room. "I understand…"

Silence again.

"If you allow us, we will depart for Manaan within the hour," Bastila says, bowing to her superiors.

"The fate of the galaxy is in your hands, Padawn." Vandar replies, nodding his head. "You and Padawan Rayner – and the rest of your crew, must be up the challenge."

Darius might be, I'm still not convinced.

My senses return as we walk out of the Council room. I didn't make a world of difference, but what was I thinking anyways?

"You _shouted_ at the Council."

Bastila's pissed. I guess I had this one coming, right? The instant we walk out of the chambers, this is what I get.

"I had to push to have you meet with the Jedi, and you go and pull that kind of stunt? At least Rayner keeps his mouth in check here!"

Well if meeting the Council went somewhat well, I guess, I might have gone and dorked up my somewhat acceptable working relationship with Bastila. Great… and this was the woman I was thinking about trying to save on the _Leviathan_. In the game, it forced the player into an impossible choice that I can't even think about in real-life. Dark side means that if Bastila and Darius fall in love, they could stay together… Love or doing what's right? I won't know until we get there… But what's the worst that could happen if I step in Bastila's place? Malak would kill me?

Would that even be that bad?

I brace myself for more of Bastila's verbal barrage, only to find that's she must be waiting for me to make some sort of half-assed retort.

I continue walking back towards the _Ebon Hawk_, passing back by the iconic tree that's just sitting in the courtyard – at least it's not dying or white. Oh, the symbolism.

"Look, Bastila, I'm sorry," I mutter, "I, err-"

The Jedi interrupts quickly, "I did a favour for you, after you've done nothing but hitch a free ride with us around the galaxy, continually getting yourself hurt and hindering our mission. It's not a joyride, it's a quest to save the Republic from Malak and the Sith."

Oh, you're bringing up my combat abilities now?

"The Jedi were the ones that forced me into the Republic Marines!" I holler back, "And whether or not I'm with you on this 'search for the Star Forge' isn't your choice. You're just here to make sure Darius does what your precious Council wants! It's just a stepping stone so that you can be a Jedi Master!"

There, that just blew a hole in our friendship, if it even existed. But for hell's sake, in the game she pretty much says that this whole mission is a way so that she can be one of the pricks on the Jedi Master. Heh, you would have thought that being part of the group that "killed" Revan earlier in this war.

"Just because you've been..." Bastila pauses, before settling on the right word. Jennifer Hale, you sound so much better as Shepard… "_accepted_ by Darius, doesn't mean that you and I are on equal footing. I've won entire battles with my Battle Meditation. You haven't even figured out how to fire a blaster."

Might as well go ahead and bring out that thing about Revan, too. "Whatever. I guess killing Revan wasn't good enough to get you a coveted seat next to Vrook, huh?"

Bastila stops dead in her tracks, grey eyes widening in surprise or shock. I can't tell, but I've gone past rubbing a nerve or touching one – I've gone and ripped a nerve out while taking a piss on it. The woman's arm twitches forward, as if she's going to strike me for what I've said.

Her eyes narrow and she seems like she's trying to calm herself. Yeah, get that Jedi Code of yours to calm you down a bit, right?

The Jedi storms off, walking up in the ramp into the open-air hangar bay, nearly power walking away from me. Ah, fuck. I better make sure I follow with some sense of speed. Mission and Darius must be back on the ship – and I'm sure that Bastila would have been more than happy to leave me here. I didn't get off Taris just to get stuck in with the Jedi. At least they're moving the civilians off the planet… A step in the right direction I guess. It's not time to worry about that anymore – for better or worse Darius still wants me aboard ship, even if Bastila and I have gotten close to ripping each other's throats out.

Following in Bastila's wake, I take my first step up the _Hawk_'s loading ramp, turning back to take a final look at the planet that we're going to depart from. I can't help but wonder… If we don't stop here between planets again, this might be the last time that any of us see this place as something besides a burning cinder.

Taris all over again.

Okay, get used to the recycled air aboard our dark, lovely little ship here. The ramp closes behind me – we're getting going already. To Manaan, I guess. Great… undersea monsters and psychotic aliens. We couldn't have decided to go to Tatooine, right? More waiting… Though, if memory serves at least Darius will be doing most of the work in finding Manaan's Star Map – while the rest of the crew mysteriously disappears from the story. Aside from the whole being arrested thing. Eh, getting ahead of myself.

It only takes a minute to get across this little ship and find my designated rack – along with the locker holding most of my equipment. Since I'm dressed in civilian attire, I've got to get ready for an actual mission – armour, blasters and all. First though, I grab a few of the pain killers that Darius gave me since I burned up my leg back on Kashyyyk. I'm still limping just a bit, but these little lovely blue pills keep me on my feet.

After swallowing my meds, I tap a button on the doorway, sealing the compartment. Okay, after this many times, putting on my armour is something like second nature, another skin that keeps me alive, more or less.

Double check that I've got my firearm, okay, good. I unlock the door once I'm done, then I'm just back to closing my locker, but something catches my eye – my only possessions, including what I've brought to this KotOR universe from Earth, my BlackBerry and my old wallet. I've kept the latter stored away aboard the ship, but the phone I've been clipping on my belt, carrying it around. Clinging onto my old life.

I pull the phone out of its holster, running through the menus – almost unfamiliar to me now. At the top of the screen I see the date, and I realise that I've turned nineteen. Nobody even knew. It was just a date, nothing important, but ...

I slam the locker shut, leaving both the wallet and the phone behind.

The battery is probably going to die in a few hours, anyways.

* * *

I stumble out of the starboard crew cabin, having taken a few hours to myself while the ship jumped between Dantooine and Manaan. Read some technical manuals, and information about the technology that allows us to travel across space so fast that makes me clocking 100 miles an hour down the interstate like a snail. The only problem though, is this technobabble makes absolutely no sense. They could have drawn chairs on top of each other and it would have made just as much sense.

I frown, trying to forget about some dimensional travel nonsense. As long as the engines don't blow up while we're trying to land, I'll be fine with that for now.

Alright, passing by the medical bay… See what we're up to, we should be landing on Manaan within a few minutes. The planet that almost everyone hated from the game, but I think that a peaceful watery planet has to be just a bit better than a forest.

I walk into the main hold, noting the holographic sphere over the conference table – its Manaan all right. All blue with a tiny silver dot – a floating city over the endless waves. Hey, this would make a pretty awesome vacation spot. Though, not all of the usual suspects are around the board, just Mission, Carth and Jolee. Hmm… I guess Darius and Bastila are up piloting? And Zaalbar… Eating somewhere I take it? Mission did say something about his eight square meals a day.

"Oh, you're not just getting a free ride from Kashyyyk to Manaan?" I smile, a little happy to see Jolee around, rather than Bastila.

Jolee at least understands a bit of my humour. "There's only so long you can stare at the trees and avoid the Czerka Corporation soldiers in the Shadowlands Though, I've got to say the gunk that comes out of your food processor tastes something awful."

"Zaalbar's been complaining about that for the past week," Mission blinks. "But nobody has gone through the effort of actually fixing the thing."

"Humph," Jolee sighs, and I can't help but smirk. Oh, the old-man stereotype sure is seeping through right now. "I'm old enough that you lot should be fixing _me_ the meals!"

There it is!

"What? You think I'm funny? Or are you just trying to mess with my head, make me forget what I'm even rambling about?"

Oh, shit, that's me.

"Well, I'm here to screw with everything," I joke, the conversation with Bastila still present in my mind. "That's my job after all. Just ask our local Jedi about that one."

Mission looks at me sceptically, I wonder if she heard Bastila and I getting in our lovely fight earlier. The older man speaks up, though.

"Heh. I heard you and Bastila had a shouting match. Your fearless leader was defending you from her verbal wrath while we were leaving Dantooine."

Well, Darius says I can stay then. Probably.

With a loud boom, the freighter shakes for a moment, followed by the absence of engine noise. We've landed on Manaan. Time to find a Star Map, all that other kind of things we've got to do. Hell, that's what we've got to do with every single ruddy planet we're going to. Find a Star Map based off Bastila and Darius' cutscene visions. I wonder if I could just tell them where it's at and how to get it… And then Bastila has even more reason to think I'm an asshole or that I'm insane.

"If the Kashyyyk Star Map was in the Shadowlands," Mission muses, "And the one on Dantooine was in a tomb – where will this one take us? It can't be in this city here." Just for emphasis, she points to the seemingly tiny structure on Manaan's globe. "What, are we going to scan the entire ocean?"

"The Wookiees were aware of the Star Map back on that planet, but that was different. If the Selkath found the Star Map, it would be known by the Republic," Jolee explains, eyes gazing into the hologram.

I better add my own thoughts… "Hey, I don't think a Star Map floats, either. But then, why put one under the sea?"

Damnit, did I just say 'under the sea?' We're not even out of the _Hawk_, and I've managed to bring up that phrase? Why don't I just break out into a song about this, and include a damn talking lobster that someone forgot to cook? Speaking of a lobster, I wonder if I can get any decent seafood here… Intergalactic salmon sounds nice right now.

"We're going to find out," Darius answers, striding confidently into the main hold, Bastila walking behind him like a shadow, silent and icy as always. Canderous follows not far afterwards, holding his massive firearm. Always ready, a Mandalorian.

He's not wearing his gold armour anymore; he must've found a set of deep blue robes that the Jedi Council love to wear. Oh, Darius, you're moving away from that soldier class and into the Jedi ones. Gone is the blaster he kept clipped on his waist, replaced by a second lightsaber. Hey, someone is moving pretty fast with the training stuff here. I know this isn't the game, so I wouldn't think you could just equip a second weapon and master it just like that. So, green lightsaber and what now? I can't lie, I'm a little bit eager to see that in action.

Darius and Bastila take their usual spots around the holographic display, and with a single hand movement from Rayner, the blue-tinted orb evaporates, replaced by a bird's eye view of Ahto City – the artificial structure where the Selkath of Manaan interact with everyone else in the universe, including the sale and export of the magical medical supply Kolto. Let me tell you, it doesn't work as well as well as it does in the game. I want my vitality points to go to maximum damnit!

"This here is the Republic Embassy, not far from our docking bay, 26 Alpha," Darius continues as two coloured botches appear over sections of the map. Since of them, coloured orange, is near the ocean, it only makes sense for that to be our hangar. Easy to land in from orbit, I'd guess. "Bastila, Carth, Stephen and I are meeting with their 'diplomatic representative.'"

Oh, no, he even did the finger quotes around that last bit.

Canderous steps forward, armoured boots clanking against the deck. "I've heard about this place, Manaan. Most water worlds never have much of an appeal for the Mandalore to conquer. And they normally don't have anything of value, except Manaan. This world's Kolto supplies have attracted the attention of the Republic and Sith. But both of them have been hiring a small army of mercenaries. Something big is going on here."

"The Selkath remain firm with their neutrality," Bastila clarifies, "They aren't part of the Republic or the Sith, and the Kolto is the only thing keeping their planet that way."

So, it's Switzerland. In space.

"If my –our suspicions are correct, we're going to need quite a bit of help to find this one," Darius explains. "That being said, we have little idea what we're getting into here. The rest of you can wander about Ahto City, but you need to be ready to mobilise on a moment's notice."

I raise a hand, then put it down when I sort of realise that this isn't a school. "I get you and Bastila and Carth… why me?"

Darius glares at me. "If memory serves, you're a marine. That's why you and Carth are coming with me on this one. I'd rather not show up as a Jedi delegation. Might make the meeting awkward."

I nod my head, only to have the Jedi keep on going.

"Let's get going."

I groan, walking behind Carth and the two Jedi, right out the loading ramp onto a new world, yet another planet that I've only seen as a virtual Xbox module. I'm getting used to seeing this as a new universe, not a video game. The sewers on Taris trained me to expect other senses besides visuals. Mostly smell and walking through sewage. I'd rather not repeat that, but we did the jungles already. This place is supposed to be pretty nice after all.

The _hiss_ of the ship's loading ramp draws me back to the real world, not to mention it reminds me that I need to keep up with the others. Okay, enough anticipation, time for the real taste of Manaan.

Once we're all in the hangar bay, I can't help but take a series of deep breaths. There's something about the air quality on the _Ebon Hawk_ that I can't quite put my finger on – it just tastes recycled and reused. And this place, it's such a nice change. And it's not like Florida either. Manaan seems to be a great temperature, perfect conditions. Damn, this might be one of the first places I've been to that I actually like. Sure, the air tastes… salty? But this place, Ahto City, the Selkath sure know how to make a city.

The door to the rest of the city, outside the hangar, opens quickly, sliding back into the walls – while an alien voice practically roars over the loudspeakers. An instant later, a translation echoes in my ears. Got to thank that handy device.

"_Entering Ahto City Secure Zone. Cameras are active."_

We're not fucking around with security here, apparently. If memory serves, fights between Republic and Sith soldiers aren't uncommon. Guess you got to keep the peace somehow, though this seems to be a bit big brother…

"You Republic brown-nosers are so pathetic, sitting around the table scraps the Senators give to you. Why don't you just roll over and let the politicians take control?"

Ah, Sith and Republic rubbing each other's nerves. Standing right outside the doorway are two blokes, one in a Republic uniform – the other in the Sith uniform that looks a lot like some sort of Nazi SS outfit. Sans the offensive symbols adorning the sleeves.

"Our Senators work for the good of the people, unlike Malak. You and your leaders are just in this for personal gain."

The Sith soldier scoffs, while the rest of us exchange nervous glances. "You want to escalate this, Republic? Just try it, make the first move. You might have some backup behind you, but you break the Selkath's laws, you pay the price."

The Sith man snorts when the Republic soldier says nothing, and walks off to his own destination. Once he must be far enough away, the remaining man lets out a frustrated growl, seemingly oblivious to our presence. We all stand in silence, waiting for that moment when he sees us.

One, two…

"Yeah, what do you want?" The human turns to us, and double takes when he sees two Jedi and two armed soldiers. He snaps to a salute, attitude vanishing in an instant. "Sir, Master Jedi! I apologise. Can I help you with anything?"

In front of me, Darius makes a small movement with his head, almost unnoticeable. It's that head move, as if he's annoyed or rolling his eyes at the young man in front of him.

"Don't worry about it, Corporal," Carth says, "As you were, we're on our way to our Embassy here."

"Oh, of course. I'll be here while I'm on duty. Command likes to keep a few grunts near our ships. It's… supposed to keep the Sith from trying anything out here."

"I appreciate the effort…" Darius places a hand on the marine's shoulder, his head looking down to find the man's nametag. "Corporal Dolan."

I snort quietly, amused by Darius putting on the Jedi role so well. Seems like just yesterday he was shouting us down on Taris for messing with the chain of command. The revelation is going to hit him like a freight train at this rate. For the time being, though, I'll be rolling with the punches. Whatever that fucking means.

* * *

Well, I thought that a city where the Sith and the Republic are practically at each other's throats there might actually be some sort of TSA service running this whole gig. Sure, we got a pretty heavy warning from one of the Selkath officers, but apparently being a Jedi is a position of some respect. Guess the Selkath got that one right, but they might be the only ones. I've been here long enough to know there's quite a bit of anti-Jedi sentiment, and if KotOR 2 plays through like it's supposed to, it's only going to get worse in the next few years.

Everything went pretty much how I thought it would, though. Got through security, as odd as that was. The emphasis sure was on not breaking Manaan's two laws.

Don't steal Kolto, and don't mess with the peace. Simple enough.

We took the exact same path through the city that I remember from the video game, complete with the courtyards that have expansive balconies over the ocean. While a city like this has to have quite a bit of noise, it's amazing out here, and quiet enough that you can hear the lapping of the waves against the metal hull of this floating city. All I need to relax is some of that music that played during the game…

"Private?" A deep voice asks, nearly causing me to jump. Fuck, pay attention in the here and now. I look straight ahead, seeing the expressionless face of the Republic Ambassador, Roland Wann.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" I cringe, realising that this is the second time today I've done this.

Wann looks back to Carth, continuing the earlier topic of conversation: how our team had to infiltrate a Sith base, and take a Republic information module that the Sith recently stole – something that would implicate the Republic in a huge scandal within twenty four hours when the device's encryption is broken. Stuff that I mostly already know.

"The Sith Embassy recently upgraded their security measures, which leaves only one option for you to break in. You'll have to assault the Sith hangar, hijack one of their private shuttles to their base, and take the data module by force as quickly as possible," the Ambassador finishes, presenting Carth with a diagram of the data module, so that we all know what we're looking for.

I can't believe this. There wasn't that option in the game, and this isn't even infiltration. It's something akin to charging face first into a block of aluminium. At ninety miles an hour.

"That's the only option?" I ask, clenching my jaw tightly, "We can't sneak in? Grab their passwords or something? Instead we're charging in the one area where they've probably got enough defences to blow a little freighter right out of the sky."

"Ignore him," Darius injects, saying his first words in this whole conversation. "We'll be back with the data module."

"There's one more thing," Wann says, pushing forward another document, with blueprints for a rather large machine that looks a lot like R2-D2… "You're going to need an astromech droid we purchased from Taris just before the planet was destroyed. Our technicians claim that it should be able to access the systems in the Embassy. Give you an edge over the Sith."

That's more like it. And we're getting T3! Everyone's favourite droid… except HK-47. It all comes back to me, I remember Davik saying they sold T3 on a 'watery planet', unlike in the game. What are the odds, I wonder?

A few moments later, a Republic engineer brings forward the inactive droid, which stands just around a meter high, covered in shiny silver armour. Between both games, I'd know that droid anywhere, even powered off. I'm going to have some sort of nerd freak out in a minute here. I haven't thus far, which is saying something.

"You want me to active it now?" The technician asks, crouching behind the droid, tinkering with a set of buttons and wires behind an open panel. "We've had a bit of a problem trying to memory wipe it, so it might be a bit… unstable."

"Do it," Darius orders, crossing his arms across his chest. "If it gets too unstable, we'll be sure to deal with it."

With a series of electronic sounds, gears shifting and a single _beep_ from T3, we're all introduced to our newest party member. Since we've got a Wookiee, we can't be complete without a droid.

"I've never liked droids," Carth frowns. "But the Ambassador is right, without it, we might be too easily overwhelmed inside the Sith Base."

Bastila takes a look at T3 for only moment, ignoring the droid's stare. "Like it or not, it's our only choice in this matter. I suggest we move on, and secure the data module as soon as possible."

Darius nods in agreement, more interested in T3-M4 than anyone else. After a few long seconds, the man taps a button on his wrist- his comlink I'd guess.

"This is Darius, I want everyone back outside Hangar 26 Alpha in ten minutes, combat ready. No exceptions."

* * *

Ten minutes later, we're all accounted for in the hangar containing the _Ebon Hawk_- in one of the few places that's actually outside of Ahto City's camera zones. Between our hangar and the Republic Embassy, I think everyone else is tapped in a manner that would make the Patriot Act's authors beam with pride.

After our brief stint in the Embassy, looks like the whole group is back together. Oh, good times. Relatively speaking, I guess. I take my usual place in our circle, between Mission and Canderous. Darius stands across from me, flanked by Carth and Bastila. To Mission's left, Zaalbar yawns, easily standing two feet over the rest of us. Our newest member, Jolee, was the last to arrive from the bowels of the _Ebon Hawk_… Only to give us a mouthful about "interrupting his nap," though at this point most of us think he's just pulling our legs.

T3-M4, apparently not actually a part of the group, rests alone nearby the ship. Hey, I would have included him in here, you racists. Guess you've got to prove yourself first, little guy.

"You didn't waste a lot of time cutting our time off short," Mission says, almost right after we met up. "Did you find the Star Map already? Maybe give us some actual shore leave… I saw a couple gorgeous guys out there."

Hey!

"No, but we're back to jumping hoops," Darius scowls. "The Republic says they know what we're looking for. Before they say one word, we've got to jump into a Sith Embassy, take a stolen Republic data module, and get back. Preferably without being arrested."

Canderous snorts. "This place was getting boring anyway. They won't be expecting anyone like us to walk in there and tear them a new one."

Darius shakes his head, glancing at the astromech droid behind him for a second. "Not quite. I'm not sure we can catch them off guard, but we're sure as hell going to hit them as hard as we can. Every minute we wait, the Sith are getting closer to ripping the information of the module. If that happens – we've lost."

"I take it that's what why you've gone out bought a new tin can?" Jolee blinks, apparently not too worried about the stakes of our mission.

Bastila steps forward, addressing all of us. "The astromech droid _should_ give us an edge over the Sith defences, not to mention if our team can gain access to the Sith mainframe."

"And what are we going to find in there? Personnel files and Kolto shipment schedules?" Carth asks, glaring at Bastila. "We should be focusing on the primary objective… sir."

Shouldn't he be calling Bastila ma'am? Or does it even matter here?

"We're going in two teams," Darius explains, ignoring the infighting between the crew, "Bastila, Jolee and I will take control of the Sith hangar bay, 27 Constellation. From there, we'll head to the Sith base and retrieve the module.

Three people? Almost everyone exchanges nervous glances between one another before Darius carries on.

"Canderous, Carth, Mission and our new droid are raiding the Embassy with the _Ebon Hawk_. After we've gotten inside, they'll be too busy fighting us to stop you from docking. Take T3; download everything you can get your hands on."

"Seems like someone knows something I don't," Carth mutters.

"We'll start in three minutes," Bastila says, frowning. "Finding the Star Map and stopping Malak and the Sith depends on this, Carth."

The Republic officer doesn't say a single word, but the rest of the crew breaks into the two groups – and I realise that I don't know which group I'm supposed to be going with. Team lightsaber or the other one? I look across to Zaalbar, who also seems to have been forgotten. I know that there was a limit to two people in the party in the game – but…

I stand next to Zaalbar before finally deciding to speak up.

"Darius," I start, mentally making sure that I'm not just forgetting something important here. "I.. um, I don't think you called my name for one of the groups. Or Zaalbar's, for that matter."

The Wookiee in question growls next to me, but nothing comes from my translator. Just a little yip, I suppose.

"Right," Darius mumbles, as he pulls his lightsabers off his belt, "You're both off the combat roster for this one. Zaalbar, you haven't been the same since Kashyyyk – clear your head. I don't blame you, not after your brother and Czerka."

The Jedi turns his attention to me, this time, brandishing an accusing finger. "As for you, I don't know what your problem is. You're distracted, and I can't have you out there until you wake the hell up. We're going in one man short because you think this is some pleasure cruiser."

Oh…

I feel like someone hit my gut with a metal hammer – not to mention Darius' words burn in my head. They're short on party members… thanks to me. And he was the guy that vouched for me back on Taris and Dantooine.

I silently watch the first group leave the room, only Bastila giving a final, rather smug, look at the rest of us. I can't help but wonder if she's partially responsible for this. Shouldn't have stepped on her toes earlier.

I turn to the second team, half of them already boarding the _Ebon Hawk_, Mission and T3 bringing up the rear. Our roles from only a few hours ago are reversed: instead of me walking into a rather unpleasant verbal battlefield, Mission is the one doing it this time.

"Good luck!" I call out to her, just as she did to me before I met with the Council.

The Twi'lek smiles, and turns back – disappearing into the hold of the ship. If this was the game, I'd be sure to see her after this is done. But… this isn't the game, a nagging voice in the back of my head says she could very well loose her life out there – and game mechanics aren't there to bring her back up when the battle is over.

Hey, any moment out here could very well be our last.

"Looks like we get to have that time off after all," I think aloud, as Zaalbar and I head back out of the hangar bay- right as my head nearly splits open from the "ship departing" alarms the Selkath have placed in this hangar complex.

"_Don't forget anything we say out here is recorded by the Selkath," _Zaalbar growls, running a massive paw through his thick fur.

"Yeah, I know, don't say what we're up to when the cameras are running, right?" I look at the cameras above us just for emphasis, as if someone is actually looking at me right now. I bet they can't hear me over the blaring noise. I change my focus to Zaalbar, who's still getting something out of that mess of hair.

"Mission might have a point, you know," I say, thinking back to one of the inter-party conversations in the game, "A brush might be a good idea for you. And maybe a tooth-brush, mate. A stick of gum?"

The alien turns to look at me, and I brace myself for a mighty roar. "_You've been to Kashyyyk; did you see any Wookiees that weren't enslaved with a brush?"_

"Sorry," I apologise loudly, taking a little step away from Zaalbar. "Won't bring it up again."

"_How did you know about that? Mission hasn't brought that up for a year,"_ Zaalbar barks over the sound of the alarms, my translator quickly filling in the missing information.

Oh, shit. "Erm, she told me, while we were going to Kashyyyk. I asked about you and the Wookiees."

My ass – covered!

The alarms stop, and I take a final look back at the empty hangar bay – where the ship was just a few minutes ago.

"Think they'll be okay without us?" I ask, seeing the tiny silhouette of the ship in Manaan's relatively clear sky, before it disappears behind a thick white cloud. There they go, until they return successfully.

"_Mission's been living in Lower Taris for ten years, she can take care of herself," _Zaalbar answers, showing his new psychic ability to read my mind.

I guess we wait until we hear from one of the teams.

I still can't shake off that feeling, though. I should be out there, as useless as I am.

**Author's Note: Normally I don't do these at the end of a chapter, but hey, I will since there was such a delay with this one. **

**I'm already working on the next one, it's a big one. Not just long, but important to **_**Displacement in the Old Republic **_**as a story. **

**Until next time. Review, please. Every one you leaves makes me a little bit happier. **


	15. Chapter 15: Apocalypse

Chapter 15: Apocalypse

"Ignorance is an enemy, even to its owner. Knowledge is a friend, even to its hater. Ignorance hates knowledge because it is too pure. Knowledge fears ignorance because it is too sure."

~Sri Chinmoy

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews thus far. It means a lot, and it's gotten me to this chapter. Oh, boy. This is a big one. And normally I try not to hype my own stuff (mostly because I don't think anything I do is that great) but even I was happy to see this one. **

**If anyone's looking for any reading material, and you're a Mass Effect/ Star Wars fan… or a fan of Halo – check out Sarge1995's fic, "Mass Effect: The Outsider." It's crazy! Not in a bad way, but there's some out of this world crossovers and such. So yeah, just thought I'd through that out there.**

**Here's Chapter 15.**

* * *

Twenty minutes since the crew went on their own mission, leaving Zaalbar and I in an empty hangar while everyone else partook in what sounded like assisted suicide.

Sure feels like a lifetime ago.

I frown, tapping my finger against my leg. Every single second I've been waiting is a painful reminder that I should have been out there, lending my hand to the fight. I don't know what's going through Zaalbar's head – maybe the same thing, but at least he's got an excuse. It couldn't have been easy seeing his family torn apart on Kashyyyk. As a result, though, here we are. Sitting on our hands. For the past twenty minutes.

"I hate waiting," I mutter, glancing at the clock in the hangar bay. Maths weren't my strong point, but I've been staring at that device long enough that I know how long it's been.

Twenty minutes, fifty eight seconds.

Twenty one minutes, now. Blackjack!

"I said-."

"_You saying that you hate waiting isn't going to make this go by any faster,"_ Zaalbar points out, finally done ignoring me. Hey, whatever floats your boat, but it's kind of driving me up a wall.

I sigh, biting my lip. "I'm telling you, Z, you and me should be out there. I don't care what Bastila says, I'm at least useful – and you're a hell of a lot better than I am."

The Wookiee shrugs his massive shoulders.

Oh, you're just trying to piss me off!

I guess I'll try a different approach. "You've got that life-debt with Darius, and Mission and you are friends. You don't feel like we should be out there right now? Who knows what kind of trouble they've got themselves into the last twenty one minutes."

"_Darius told us to stay behind," _Zaalbar growls.

"Yeah," I reply, "But he needs you and me, mate. And orders from the Jedi or not, I think there's a way for you and me to get over there."

Zaalbar's head tilts to one side. _"The ship's gone, and the Jedi took the Sith shuttles from their hangar bay."_

No _Ebon Hawk_, no other way into the Sith base- since Darius and the first team took the Sith shuttle that was in their private hangar bay. Roland Wann said those were the two options … Sith shuttle- but who said there was only one ship in the Sith hangar bay?

"I've had twenty minutes to think about it," I say, chuckling, my imagination now running wild. I might not remember what was exactly in that room, but nobody just has one single shuttle in a hangar. If that's the case, I don't even know what's going on anymore.

A take a few steps toward the Republic soldier standing nearby, the same we met earlier.

"The Jedi that left earlier, they were going…?"

Corporal Dolan looks a little confused but he glances to the right, towards more and more hangars. "Hangar Section 27, it's over in that direction-."

"Thank you!" I say, already moving in that direction, Zaalbar in tow. I'm practically jogging through the halls, checking the numbers. We were in 26A, Darius went to 27C – in the game it had enough Sith symbols on it that it should be pretty easy to spot. Finding it, as they say, is the easy part.

"Good, you're still with me," I mutter, checking over my shoulder – still seeing the massive Wookiee behind me. "Don't worry, if we get into some sort of trouble, just say I forced you into this."

"_Nobody's going to believe that,"_ Zaalbar snorts.

I ignore him, too focused on finding the right bay. 26Z, 27A, 27B…

Oh, that's it alright, little Sith symbols just over the entrance. Not to mention to "27C" symbols on the doorway, which is somewhere between open and ripped apart. Just like all the other hangars, a two door system is used here – like an airlock. Right between them is where we're all told that cameras are no longer active. The outer doors – to the hangar, took quite a beating, and even I can tell that the only way to cleanly cut through metal without a scratch is a lightsaber. Darius was here, all right. Some of the metal is still hot, a few wisps of steam rising from the edges of the steel. Damn.

Inside are a pair of Sith, not the aluminium-clad soldiers, but officers wearing their grey uniforms, going over the hangar deck with their equipment. Investigating the disturbance, I'd have to say, judging how they're busy taking notes on datapads. I peer around the bent door panel, seeing a few Sith fighters hanging from racks overhead – along with a small swoop bike in the corner.

Back against the metal wall, I turn my head to Zaalbar. "There's two in there, I think they only have pistols."

"_If we're not fast, they will call additional forces," _the Wookiee reminds me, pulling a device that looks a like a crossbow from a pouch on his back – a bowcaster, they call it.

I nod, resting a hand on my holstered blaster pistol. Leaving it there, I flip the safety to the 'off' position, hearing the weapon power up with a satisfying hum. Those accuracy lessons back on Dantooine better serve me well – we can't afford to let them call back to base. They're probably only here because they lost contact with the hangar deck twenty minutes ago. If we're really, really lucky, Darius and the gang are keeping the Sith busy – meaning that even if they call for backup, nobody is listening. That being said, that same reason is why we need to get in the Embassy as quick as possible.

I'd rather not find out if anyone would be listening to these guy's communicators.

Okay, weapon readied, Zaalbar seems to be ready as well. Now, or never. Let's make it now.

"All right, I've got an idea…" I whisper to the Wookiee, "Stay here, I'll draw them out."

I stride into the hangar bay, walking up to the closest officer – while he looks up at me, pulling a sidearm out. Across the hangar bay, the other Sith does the same, weapon trained on me, while Zaalbar

"What are you doing here?" The one closest to me cries, dropping his datapad on the hangar deck. "This area is under lockdown, no one goes in or out!"

I try my best to play an arrogant Sith officer. "I was told to come here, you idiot! Prisoner transfer, from Cell Block 1138."

The Sith scowls, gripping his blaster even tighter… He must not be a frontline trooper, unfamiliar with combat. Like me. "We'll have to verify that. Put your hands up, and turn and face the bulkhead." He gestures to the other Sith, who walks towards me.

Okay, Zaalbar! Now would be a good time!

I hear a _whoosh_ a few feet away, and the Sith officer falls to the ground in a heap – shot by Zaalbar's bowcaster. At the same time, I grab my weapon and force it across the closest Sith's face – who stumbles back in pain, clutching at his face. I pull my blaster back, lining up to make the fatal shot.

Seeing another human being in front of me, wounded and helpless – while I have the ability to exterminate him once and for all… Fuck. I can't do this, this isn't war, its murder. Come on, Stephen. Remember what Darius told you.

_"For better or worse," Darius explained, sighing, "You have to disconnect. You're not a person in war. Just an instrument. You kill because you have to. To complete your objective. Otherwise, you lose."_

I'm an instrument now. To complete the objective.

To murder.

_"Most of the time, it either boils down to you, or them. That should be reason enough."_

Not important, the objective is what matters.

I pull the trigger, forcing a blaster bolt through the officer's skull. I turn away at the last second, sparing myself from the sight of what I've done – but the clunk of a body hitting the floor is indication enough that I did it. I killed him. Objective… completed. For the moment.

Something nudges me from behind; I whirl around, blaster ready to defend myself. No, that's just Zaalbar. I put the weapon back in its holster, turning the safety back on. Wouldn't want to forget about that. I don't think I ever will.

"You know how to fly one of these?" I ask, gesturing to the ships around us – or in the case of the Sith fighters, above us. "I've never driven anything that flies. Hell, it took me months to learn a manual transmission."

I'm not James Bond, I sure don't have a car that flies.

Zaalbar stares at the ships above us and the swoop bike nearby. Come on, if Chewbacca from_ Star Wars_ could do it, I'm sure you can wrangle something up. _"Back on Taris, Mission and I flew sky-hoppers before the Sith quarantine. Two people won't fit on the bike, and the fighter _should_ handle like a sky-hopper."_

"Should?" I repeat, quickly picturing a Sith fighter containing a nineteen year old idiot and a Wookiee crashing into the ocean, never to be heard from again. Maybe we'd be Manaan's _Titanic_. Without James Cameron's version love story, I fucking hope. No offense, Z.

The Wookiee looks at me blankly. "Okay, okay," I deadpan, "This has to be the worst fucking idea, though." I check above us, seeing a number of fighters hanging on metal devices – like bats in a cave. They sure as hell don't look like they fit two people – one of whom is eight feet tall and probably weights four times my mass.

I see a single ladder leading to a catwalk on the ceiling; Zaalbar already climbing up. I follow as quickly as possible, trying not look down. I don't care if it's only a few feet; it's going to freak me out. Okay, we're all the way up here, the metal groaning under Zaalbar's weight. They sure didn't design this for Wookiees. That's not the worst part – I can see the cockpits up here. We'd be lucky for just me to fit in there. I don't like where this is going.

"_We're going to have to take separate ships," _Zaalbar growls, feeling it apparently necessary to state the perfectly obvious.

"I can't fly one of these!" The vivid imagery of my ship plummeting into the ocean is raging like wild-fire through my mind right now. "I've never, I mean-."

"_I think we slave your fighter's navigational drive to mine. It's what pilots use to tow ships with deceased personnel back to hangar decks." _The alien climbs into the nearest Sith fighter, cockpit sealing after him. Sure looks like a cramped fit, but I stop staring and climb into a tiny pod – the only spot in this ship were anything human could reside. A tiny room with controls, with two wings coming out of either side. Sleek, agile, and probably not for someone like me to fly around in.

At least someone had the sense to label all the controls, which take up every square inch of this little cockpit – except the joystick that rests uncomfortably close to my legs. How long do pilots sit in this mess of a ship? I check around, and after a few seconds, a switch labelled "canopy release," catches my eye. I flip it the opposite direction, and the ship seals itself. While the bottom half of the cockpit consists of metal, buttons and lights – the upper half, the canopy, is nothing but a few supports and glass. Good thing I'm not claustrophobic, though seeing out these windows…

Um… What do I do now?

A beep grabs my attention. The centre console displays a single phrase: "Auto-pilot enabled."

Oh, I don't think I like this.

My fighter falls a foot from the roof, and I fight the urge to scream. I'm fucking hovering over the ground, Zaalbar's ship in front of me. An instant later, the ship in front of me rockets forward, engines glowing a deathly bright blue. I brace myself, knowing that I'm going to follow.

I slam back into my "seat," if you could call that, and my armour clanks against the metal chair. I open my eyes, not even realising that I closed them.

I really wish I didn't do that – the endless ocean consuming my view, clouds above. Okay, if I just focus on Zaalbar's ship, it's always going to be relative to mine, I think. It's not flying by at twenty thousand miles an hour like everything else is.

Just when I think something is going right, the ship banks sharply to the left, pushing my head right into the canopy window. Son of a bitch, that's going to be hurting for the next few days, I bet. Okay, keep myself braced for any more sudden swerves… If I ever get back home, this makes driving a car look like a snail. A sleeping snail.

Before I realise it, I can feel the ship slow down, and now the view outside isn't Manaan's scenic landscape. It's an empty hangar bay back in Ahto City – the Sith Embassy. Heh, at least we didn't try to land in the same one that the crew took the _Ebon Hawk _in. Wait, if we're going to land – why are we still going damn fast?

What seems like an hour later, I reach for the canopy release switch, weakly climbing out of my Sith fighter. Oh, god, I think I'm going to be sick. That was so, so much worse than any roller coaster I've been on.

I bend over, taking long and deep breaths. Once I feel like I'm not green, I see Zaalbar out of his own ship, stretching his massive hairy limbs.

"Fuck you," I spit, "I'm not doing that again."

Zaalbar just laughs, while grabbing his bowcaster out of the fighter. I quickly check to make sure my firearm didn't fly off my belt during the trip. Okay, good, I'm set.

"So, in a Sith Embassy, where do you think they're at?" I ask, realising that we never checked any layouts or building plans.

Both of us stop when we hear sounds of blaster fire and explosions. _"That way," _the Wookiee says, over the sound of battle.

I guess that's as good as we're going to get. I take a step towards the hangar entrance, and towards the Embassy. I really wish I had a photographic memory, then I could memorise the damn KotOR maps. I pull my blaster pistol out, keeping a tight grip on the weapon. I don't know how we're going to help out here, but the sooner Z and I can find everyone else, the better. Time's a ticking.

I slowly walk up the door, opening it with an aggressive punch. I look around the corner, seeing nothing to the right, and nothing to the left. Okay, looks good. I nod to Zaalbar, giving him an obvious message: all clear.

We move down the hallway, keeping an eye out for any sudden movement. I haven't come this far to get ambushed and shot. Before I can go any further, Zaalbar puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. _"Wait a moment. I hear something nearby."_

I raise an eyebrow, holding my breath. It takes me a moment, but I think I hear it too. Before, I could only hear the familiar twang of blaster-fire, but something else was just thrown into the mix, whooshingand humming. My nerdy background might be stupid and useless, but I'm positive that what I'm listening to right now are the sounds of lightsabers.

"_It sounds like it's pretty close,"_ Zaalbar informs me. _"And they are coming closer."_

So, rather than us finding them, Darius, Bastila and Jolee are coming to us. Good deal, I suppose. In a few minutes, my group follows this corridor as it wraps around, running almost face first into a set of lightsabers; greens, yellows and a purple. Out of pure instinct, I squeeze the trigger of my gun. Fuck!

A yellow-bladed lightsaber easily swats the blaster bolt aside, and the projectile hits the ceiling, leaving a black scorch mark.

"Friendlies!" I holler, raising my hands as fast as I can, in a pretty desperate gambit to not have one of the Jedi cut my head off in a single move.

All three of the humans in front of Zaalbar and I look horrible: clothes tattered and burned – and they're all covered in sweat. I take a small step back, trying to get a little less of a body odour overload.

Bastila frowns, visibly panting. "I thought you and Zaalbar were still in Ahto City."

"_Stephen forced me,"_ Zaalbar answers with a roar and a series of growls. I still don't get that language…

"I thought I told you lot to stop toying with my head!" Jolee snaps, glancing behind him every few seconds. Damn, what kind of battle was going on here?

"You're not with the _Ebon Hawk_ team?" Darius asks, raising his eyebrows. When I shake my head, he continues. "We'll talk about this later. We just got the _Hawk_ team to safety. We need to haul ass back to the hangar ASAP. The Sith have rallied all of their forces on Manaan. I'd say about five minutes before we're overwhelmed."

"_The Data Module?"_ Zaalbar reminds all of us of our overall objective.

Darius blinks. "Took us half an hour to retrieve it, but we've got it. I gave it to Carth to take it back on the ship."

Hmm, that makes sense. Five minutes to get back out, though. Didn't I just get here?

"All right, the shuttle we arrived in on is still in the hangar. Remobilise. Lightsabers up front, blasters behind, cover our six."

Alright… I fall behind the three Jedi, two if you count Jolee as an ex-Jedi, walking backwards – probably not in a straight line, but there's not time to worry about that. We're not ten feet from where we met when three Sith soldiers appear on the edge of my vision, obviously in hot pursuit of Darius' team. Before they can line up their shots, I fire five different bolts from my weapon, hitting one of them. Okay, that leaves two. They fire back, and I try the best option I've got: duck.

Zaalbar and I exchange a few blaster bolts, before running to catch up with Darius, Jolee and Bastila. One of the Sith cry out in pain, Zaalbar must have got him with his laser crossbow thing.

Since we didn't have to go very far before finding Darius, I wasn't surprised that these corridors, plated in a boring silver alloy, look really familiar. Hell, we're actually pretty close right now, I'd say a hundred feet or so – the door is still open, even.

"You know," Darius shouts over the blaster fire and the _hum_ of his own twin lightsabers, "I'm glad to see you both here, orders or not."

I snort, vaulting over a crate in the hallway. Now that I'm behind it, I take cover, shooting two more Sith troopers, while even more race towards us – including Dark Jedi, armed with blood red lightsabers, naturally.

Why do all Sith have red lightsabers? Just because Darth Vader did?

"I don't know," I yell back, "I think it would have been better to stay behind."

Zaalbar roars, and either my translator can't pick that out over the racket, or it was nothing but a loud noise from the Wookiee. Ah, screw it. I don't care anymore at this point. I lean out of cover on the right side, shooting a half dozen bolts before my blaster clicks without firing, and heat expelling all over my hand. I thumb the eject button on the handle, and slide another power cell into the chamber.

I sprint away from my safe little box, as fast as I can with this armour weighing me down. I've done this before, and I'm not some sort of Level 1 noob anymore. Maybe Level 2, but I've at least sort of got this figured out. A blaster bolt whizzes past my head, but I'm lucky enough to not have lost my head.

That's not a way to get ahead in life.

The door to the hangar is within grasp now, and Jolee is already inside. Before I can make a break for it, the sounds of blaster-fire reduce to half their volume.

"_This is the Ahto City Police Force,"_ an alien voice booms over the loudspeakers, one that I can recognise as Selkath. Great, the feds are here. _"Lay down your weapons and do not resist arrest."_

Like hell!

I wipe the sweat off my forehead, grimacing as I hear the clanking of metal feet in the distance. Droids, probably security droids at that. The number of people firing at us greatly reduces, which can only mean one thing: the Selkath aren't messing around here, and it sounds like there is enough robots to subdue all of us.

Zaalbar scrambles past me into the hangar bay, leaving Bastila, Darius and I out here while the authorities get even closer, while still exchanging blaster fire with the Sith that insist on trying to riddle us with holes. I move into the doorframe of the hangar, seeing the glint of armoured droids getting ever closer.

"Go without me," Darius says, voice barely louder than a whisper. If I wasn't so close, I wouldn't have heard.

"We've still got time to get out of here," I argue, shooting at the few remaining Sith that haven't been disarmed.

The former Dark Lord of the Sith shoves me a few inches away. "If the Sith captured us, we'd all be dead. There's not enough time to get out of here before the Selkath grab the shuttle's transponder codes. When they put me on trial, I expect you lot to get me out!"

Smart man, I'll give him that. And I didn't think in the game it was that hard to get out of being executed. Besides, people did it all the time on Earth.

I holster my blaster, giving a final look at Bastila and Darius.

"Bastila?" I ask, already knowing what she'd say.

Double-bladed lightsaber twirling, she only shakes her head.

Damn heroes.

"You should've gone with them," I hear Darius mutter to Bastila, while I quickly scan the deck for any ships besides the two Sith fighters.

Ignoring the pain in my side from running this far already, I break into a full sprint, practically charging up the ramp of the little shuttle in the hangar bay. I honestly don't know if this is the right one, but it's close, and it's the largest thing in the nearly empty hangar. I'd rather be arrested than ride in that stupid little fighter, anyways.

Raiding the Sith base? Done. Now for the battle with the politicians and judges.

* * *

I thought I would have been overjoyed to see the _Ebon Hawk_ fly back into the hangar bay, with Carth, Canderous, T3-M4 and Mission walking out of the hold. Rolling, in the case of our new droid. The truth, though, turned out to be a pretty different thing than I thought it would. Doesn't it always?

Wait, I take that one back. I was happy to see them again. That part is true.

Being grounded from this most recent mission along with Zaalbar made me rethink some things, especially with Mission. It even led to us breaking our standing orders. Oh, the irony of that right now is… _striking_. Fate went around and rather than biting me in the ass, it punched me in the face.

Things sure took a turn for a worst after our shuttle fled the Sith Embassy, but the first bit of bad news I actually expected: Darius and Bastila were arrested by the Selkath authorities in Embassy – while the second team made it back to the _Ebon Hawk_, apparently Davik's upgrades to the ship helped the freighter make it through security without much of a problem. In the game, though, the player was arrested, so I'm betting it shouldn't be that difficult to get Darius and Bastila out of there. If I need to, I'll use some of my knowledge from the game. It's only fair at this point. It should be relatively easy to get them out of there; I'm not too worried about that.

What I _am_ worried about right now, though, is something entirely different. Something unexpected.

Everyone scrambled to get to the judicial district of Ahto City, but that's when everything seemed like it was going well. Mission pulled me aside, and I guess I could never think that was something to get worried about. Especially after the sharp realization that unlike the game, Mission wouldn't get up from combat if her health was too low. Sure made me realise that this was something important.

Oh, how I can be wrong about thinking this might turn out well.

I'm pretty sure I'll remember this for quite a while, the Twi'lek closing the door to the hangar, sealing us in the open-air bay – safe from the prying eyes of the ever present Ahto City Selkath authorities. It wasn't too far outside the areas of my imagination to think that I might be getting a similar kiss treatment like on Kashyyyk. Can't blame a nineteen year old for think that might be it. It sure made since at the time, in my head. But in all fairness, things always make more sense in my head. Like leaping into a Sith fighter.

No, what I was instead treated with was a blatant statement that chilled me down to the bone – not to mention my worst fears up the surface since I arrived in this messed up universe.

"_Tell me why you've been lying to me," she asked. _

I've told a lot of lies, starting a month ago. It all seemed so harmless then, necessary even. I've been spewing lies ever since. To cover my ass, to explain knowledge that I shouldn't have possessed. Hell, I probably rank up there with Gaius Baltar. Honestly, the reason I joined the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ originally was to escape the destruction of Taris. Not the most noble of reasons. Even Canderous, former Mandalorian, has a better reason to stay on the ship than I do.

The thing about lying is that unless you're going to start telling the truth, your only option is to tell so many that it becomes difficult to tell how much of your "life" is reality anymore.

What pained me is that I wasn't sure which lies she was talking about. I had told so many, I didn't even know. So I did what I always do: cover my ass whatever way I can.

"_What are you talking about?" I had said, while I desperately tried to figure out what she had found._

That, looking back on what I said just a few minutes earlier, was definitely the wrong thing to say. Was anything the right choice there?

I have no idea, but rather than answer with words, Mission sure lived up to her reputation about living in the Lower City of Taris. I wasn't dealing with a Twi'lek politician or dancer – it was all too easy to forget that she used to reside in the same place gangs roamed free. She was even practically part of the Hidden Beks.

The logical solution, for Mission, then, was to reach out and punch me right across the face.

Far from a kiss, indeed.

I remember stumbling back, before trying my luck one last time.

"_I don't understand-." I tried to say, putting a little honesty into what I was saying. I didn't know exactly what she was bringing up, in all fairness._

Mission must have been mad as hell, because she hit me. Again. This time, though, it was hard enough that I fell back onto the metal bulkhead behind me, but the pain from that sure isn't anything compared to what I'm feeling all around my left eye.

Ouch.

I put a finger in my mouth, realising that there's a good amount of blood, shining red on my index finger. Oh, that's really nice. Not the first time I've had it happen since I've been here, but I wouldn't have thought Mission would have been the one to beat the crap out of me. Davik, yeah, that was expected. Not Mission, not after all we've done.

That alone hurts almost as bad as my face does.

Bastila, Darius and now Mission. I'm good at screwing up my relationships with people, that's for sure. Bastila – we weren't that good, but Darius brought me here, believed in me, and I wasn't on this mission thanks to my lacklustre performance. Darius was one of the first to trust me, especially on Taris when I could barely lift a blaster. He was disappointed in me.

Disappointed.

At least I sort of fixed Darius and I. Not that I was that successful, since he and Bastila are rotting in a Selkath holding cell awaiting a hearing and trial.

Mission, that's an entirely different case. She's … I don't even know. I don't know how I feel anymore. Just three hours ago, I realised that I was worried about her more than I knew. She's made me think about things I wouldn't have before. I didn't feel like this about a fictional character – and on Kashyyyk I knew she wasn't one, not to me, not anymore. None of the crew were, but it was Mission that made me think about that. I knew then, I really cared about her.

That was a new experience, really. Caring about someone like that.

Maybe she felt the same way about me.

But now, I'm sure she sees me as a lair, a cheat, and a whole mess of other things.

She's right though. I have been lying. To her, of all people.

I look up into her face, features ice cold, and a pang of guilt strikes me, pushing my morale down even further. I've fucked this one up so badly. And I've brought this on myself, since day one.

But what was I supposed to do?

"You don't have anything to say?" Mission demands, standing a few feet away, arms at her sides.

I don't know _what _to say, truthfully. I'm not sure what could fix this.

"You could start with the truth. I'm used to people lying, Stephen, but I always thought there was something you were ashamed of. You had your secrets. Maybe when you were with the Sith. But you don't exist on their personnel records."

Oh, fuck. Carth mentioned that's something that would be found on the Sith mainframe.

"Bastila even said you served on Manaan before Taris. I checked the Republic's citizenship database for you. It was blank. You don't exist. The sole record is Darius entering your military information three weeks ago. He did it himself, without using the automatic system."

I shouldn't exist, honestly. Of all people, I don't belong here.

No one asked me. No one told me. I was plucked from my home, my family. In a world that I could have died along with billions of others – Taris. If there's a higher power orchestrating this, it's out to punish me for something. I never said goodbye to them. I tried to send a message even, but to no avail.

Life isn't fair, they say. That was true in my case. Unless someone else from Earth was thrown into a universe where death was imminent – as well as the truth about their past.

So, no, life isn't fair. It's a mega asshole out to get me.

"Silence… I'm not surprised," Mission growls, "I want your real name. Not the one the Sith gave you while you spied on us, ate our food, listened to our stories, while telling everything to your superiors."

The Sith? I sure didn't shoot up their Embassy just to be considered a turncoat.

This isn't the first time a background check resulted in my ass being cooked. Davik thought I was a spy too, but I squeezed my way out that one. This one is quite a bit different.

"I'm not…" I stumble to sit up, glancing at the wet blood on my hand, "I'm not a spy. I think one would have a bit better cover."

Mission scoffs, "Yeah, and the whole act about being terrible in a fight was part of that cover, right? If you were telling the truth, this time, then you would have existed somewhere."

No lie I can tell can get me out of this one.

When everything else is removed from the equation, one thing remains. That's the answer, in this case the truth – the absurd, ridiculous truth.

That's not an option.

I'm risking everything right now – one of the crew… Mission, thinks I'm a spy. If I don't get out this, I'm going to be implicated as such, best case: prison time and a lot of interrogations. Worst case: I'm dead.

"You're right about something," I say, heart pounding in my chest, "I … I have been lying for quite a while. Ever since I arrived on Taris, actually. The reason I don't exist…"

This is it. I've thought about this every second of every day.

"I don't exist anywhere is because I wasn't born here. I'm from a planet called Earth. The year was 2010 last time I was there. We're I'm from, space travel wasn't anything but a product of science fiction writers and some serious research. We only had sub-light travel, not hyperspace."

Mission blinks. "The Republic hasn't found any undeveloped planets with humans… There's no way you could have gotten to Taris without hyperdrive. Try again."

"I'm telling you the truth," I whisper, thinking back to my old life. "One day I'm thinking about going to college, everything goes dark – and I wake up on Taris, in the Upper City. I wish I knew what happened… It's beyond impossible, I know."

Mission shakes her head. "Another lie, right? If that's true, the culture shock would've been more than enough to have someone see right through you. More or less, you knew what was going on."

I bite my lip, not caring if I cause any more blood to spill into my mouth. It all seems unimportant at this point.

"What I'm about to tell you is … I know you won't believe me at first, but know… This is the truth…"

"Keep talking," Mission says, crossing her arms. "Before I get Carth back here."

I've bought time, but not a lot.

"Where I'm from, hyperdrive wasn't just something that fiction writers wanted to see. It was in fiction. Letter for letter, word for word. Everything here, from blasters, lightsabers, the Sith and Jedi. Even the Star Maps. I've seen it all before. When I showed up on Taris, I knew a lot of what I was seeing around me. I know it… it's insane."

Mission's anger seems to have disappeared, replaced with confusion. Yeah, no kidding, given what I'm saying.

"It was just a game," I whisper, slumping into a heap on the ground. "Malak, Star Maps, Jedi, the Force… All from a fucking video game. Even you."

"Me?" Mission asks, surprised.

I don't know what to tell her anymore, so I don't directly answer. "You want to know why I said I was with the Sith? I knew Taris was going to burn – remember when I let it slip after we rescued Bastila? I couldn't just tell all of you how I knew, you would have thrown me in a mental hospital. Was I just supposed to say that I know who all of you are because you were characters in a game? It's fucking impossible!"

"You don't … know how you got here?" The Twi'lek asks, crouching in front of me, her face just above eye level, demeanour so different than when she was punching me across the floor. That only hurt physically. Bringing all this up… hurts in a different way.

"I never asked for this," I whimper, cursing inwardly at how _pathetic_ I must sound. "I just… showed up the day we met in the Undercity. Since then, I've been trapped here. No family, no one I knew back home." I pause for a few moments, trying my best not to let my eyes water. "I didn't even get a chance to say anything to them."

Mission takes a deep breath. "You're sure that this was all in a game?"

I look right into her eyes, already knowing what to say. "You were on Taris quite a bit longer than I… actually was. You got there as a stowaway with your brother Griff Vao, you were a kid then. Griff left a few years ago, with Lena – they said they'd come back and get you when they had money. You don't know where they went."

I can see Mission's jaw clench, but I keep going. "You didn't tell me that, and you can ask Zaalbar- he hasn't said very much too me at all. Hell, it wasn't until Kashyyyk that I had a working translator-."

A swift kick to my armoured gut cuts me short.

"You _knew_ about Taris," she growls, standing up again. "And you didn't say anything about it? Trillions of people died! You knew every minute you were there that everyone was dead to you already? And that's why you found us and got on the ship, right?"

"I know!" I roar, using all the air in my lungs, "I was there, too! I'm a coward, okay? Is that what you want to hear? You think a day has gone by where I haven't thought: Hey, I wonder if I could have stopped the deaths of seven trillion people?

"Besides, even if I could have stopped it, I do know how this ends: and Bastila isn't kidding when she says this is how to stop Malak and the Sith! What if… What if I change things and we lose our chance-."

Crap, I can barely get the words out anymore; trying to justify my actions at this point seems so… futile.

"You're right, though," I say, no longer shouting. "That's why I talked to the Council – Dantooine's next. I wanted to change something. That's why I couldn't explain myself." I push back tears, wiping one of my eyes.

"No one gave you, of all people, the right to play god," Mission spits, "I take it that's where… this," she points at herself, and me, "came from, right?"

God, no, Mission…

"I never thought that would happen, honestly. I nearly freaked out about on Kashyyyk. I mean, I fell in love with someone I thought existed only in fiction-."

"You love me?" Mission bluntly asks, face still emotionless. "How do I know you're telling me the truth, not trying to squeeze out of this?"

"You don't," I reply honestly. I don't even know where the l-word came from, either. Can't take that back, either. No do-overs in real-life, can't just load a save game. "You don't know how hard it was to keep this a secret- especially not from you."

The alien in front of me rolls her eyes. "I'd believe that if you told me earlier. Not when I caught you in the act and cornered you with no way out."

"I'm not proud of what I've done, either," I admit, "I'd take it back in an instant if I could. At the time it seemed like the right choice. It's easy to say now that yeah, I fucked up. I was terrified, Mission. If I told the truth, I'd be interrogated somewhere – either by the Republic or the Sith.

"I was- am," I correct myself, "all by myself out here, no combat training, nothing but what happened to be in my pockets at the time."

"I thought you and I fixed that combat training part," Mission smiles, possibly the single best sight in the world right now.

"Yeah," I chuckle, "Whoever put me here has such a twisted sense of humour. Should've picked some bad-ass soldier."

Mission extends a hand to me, "No one gets to pick the role they're thrown into. From what you've said, you were just literally tossed in here." I grab her blue hand, pulling myself off the ground – while wiping away the few tears from my eyes. Time to get the hell back up.

"I'll keep your secret, for now," Mission scolds me, once I'm standing up again. "Sooner or later, though, everyone else is going to need to hear about this."

"Right," I mutter, not even sure how or when I'd do that. Sounds like a problem for future Stephen, not present Stephen.

Mission's comlink chirps an obnoxious note, as does mine. That's everyone else, wondering what the hold up is, I bet.

"Mission here," my friend answers, tapping the comlink on her wrist. An instant later, noise spills out from the device.

"There you are!" Carth says through the communications device, "We're all waiting here for you and Stephen – there's only a few minutes left before the Selkath close their… visiting hours."

"We'll be there as soon as possible," Mission replies, closing the line.

I realise that I'm probably sporting a nasty black eye, which I'm hoping I can just pass off as some sort of awesome fist fight with a Sith – or a bar fight. Regardless, nobody's going to look too closely given my track record. "We could just claim you're a bit abusive, you know?" I mutter, tenderly touching the bruised area of my face.

"I might be a bit rough," Mission replies, winking.

Great.

* * *

Two hours from now, the Selkath Ahto City High Court is hearing the case against Darius and Bastila. Too bad this isn't Earth – we'd have two years to prepare for this. Not that there's honestly much to prepare for, given that the two Jedi should have some stupid Selkath as their defence, or "Arbiter," as they're known as in this particular system. Here, Arbiter isn't some ass kicking Elite.

I guess all of are going to this trial as guests, but we're just meant to fill up chairs or something. It's more up to the two Jedi to defend themselves. I was bored once when playing this part of the game, so I chose the wrong option: the result is execution. Right away, no less. Justice here is sure swift and supposedly neutral.

Rather than simply waiting around the courtyard outside of the courtyard, we all headed to the Republic Embassy as a group – since we've successfully retrieved the data module, Carth's been holding onto it. From what I've seen of it, it's such a small little item that was such a pain to retrieve. A small data cube, less than six inches wide. And we nearly died trying to get this?

I fall in with the rest of the gang, as we walk back into the Republic Embassy. Apparently when we lose our leaders, Carth's in charge… I guess.

"You're back!" Roland Wann proclaims, immediately turning to face us. "Do you have the-."

Carth drops the data module on the Ambassador's desk. "The Sith haven't broken the encryption," the soldier says bluntly. "We've done exactly what you asked, and two of us are looking at possible execution. Your end of the bargain…?"

Yeah, this is the part where we hear about the underwater base that certain members of the Selkath government and the Republic have set up: so the Republic can break neutrality laws and get more Kolto, furthering their war effort. In the game, the underwater base had plenty of great stuff – insane Selkath and a horror-theme to it. So far the missions have all had me in them, since BioWare isn't slapping anyone across the face by limiting the party. But, we would have take a submarine down there – and if this is anything like the game, only three people will fit inside that little submarine. So, if everyone is in their right mind – I won't be going down there. Good thing, I'd probably piss my pants.

I step out from the back of the group, taking a few breaths of fresh air. I look back to find Mission listening to Wann, but keeping an eye on me. Even though we're on better terms than when she stepped off the _Hawk_, I can tell she's not ready to just let me run around. Hey, chaperone me all you want. Might be for the better.

Alright, alright. I walk back into the group, right as Carth speaks up. "We don't have much of a choice. Darius and the Jedi are going before the Selkath courts in a few minutes, but I want you to get that submersible ready for us. The instant they get acquitted, we'll be back."

Don't want to get started without the boss?

Luckily for us, the Courtroom and the holding cells are just across from the Embassy, so that's something. I'm still not over sprinting around like a crazy person. That was enough to wear me out for a day. I really, really wish I hit the gym more often than… never. I mean, my legs still feel like a combination of jelly and water. The Ahto City court is just like it was in the game, just in a different place: long entrance, and I think I can even see the snobby Selkath judges from here. What's different, though, is a single Selkath flanked by two security droids standing in our way. Maybe he's got a guest list?

"_Stop,"_ the alien commands, holding up a four-fingered hand. _"There has been a mistrial, and the defendants have been brought back to our holding cells. Our judges will not hear the case for another day."_

Fuck.

"This is just great," Carth scowls, "We can't wait for them, the sooner we can copy the information off the Star Map the better, especially with all these Sith here."

"Got something in mind?" Jolee asks. Hey, go tell some young whippersnappers to get off your yard. Then you and Jedi Ad Asner can have a party together.

The Republic officer waits for a minute before answering. "We'll split up. Canderous, Zaalbar, Mission and Stephen: you're going down in the submarine. Jolee and I are staying up here, and we'll see if there's anything we can do about this trial."

Fuck!

"So you stick me and the Wookiee with babysitting, Republic?" Canderous sneers.

I ignore the taunt that was obviously intended for both Carth and I. I'm not in the mood to mess around with Canderous.

Well, now _I'm_ the one stuck going in the creepy underwater base of horrors. I haven't seen a lot of horror films, but I sure know one thing: don't take a shower while on the run from a killer. Somehow, I don't think that's entirely applicable here.

"Back to the Republic base, then," I groan, not looking forward to this one bit. "Canderous, we're leaving…?"

"Whenever you stop complaining, I'd say, but I don't think that will be anytime today."

What you call complaining, I call pointing out how things could be better. It's not my bloody fault things suck.

"I take it this didn't happen… you know…" Mission whispers in my ear, given that we're not alone – and the inordinate amount of cameras the Selkath have out here.

I shake my head. "No, but this isn't the first time it's happened. Alarming regularity, actually."

From the Rancor on Taris to the swoop bikes there, that's pretty damn true. It's not useful when things keep changing – like playing chess while someone keeps tossing the board up in mid-air and punching it.

That's a terrible metaphor!

Double checking my equipment for what must be the thirteenth time today, I ready myself for the next mission, and this time, I'm a lot more worried than I was about the Sith base.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey, look another one of these. I realise some people aren't big fans of the whole "telling the truth" element that some SI's have, but I've been planning on it for quite a while. At this point in the story, it was eating Stephen alive. It seemed natural to have Mission be the one that learns it as well. I'm hoping it pays off, and in the grand scheme of things, the story won't be too different because of it.**

**Right now, that is. From the beginning I've been teasing this concept, so yeah. Heh. **

**Review please!**


	16. Chapter 16: The Selkath

Chapter 16: The Selkath

"Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood."

~Marie Curie

**Author's Note: How did I do two nine thousand word chapters back to back like that? I have no idea. My brain is collapsing in on itself! This one took a little bit longer because I was sick as hell for a while there. And this one turned out to be pretty long. Oops. **

**This chapter warps up the Manaan story arc. As you can tell from the last two chapters, there's still some things to address. What planet is next you wonder? You'll just have to find out.**

* * *

The entire trip in the submarine, I was reminded of my Sith fighter experience. Hell, I was dangerously close to flashing back to that – head pains and all. At least a submarine drives pretty smoothly – but given that there's four of us in here, I'm pretty sure I'm going to get severe leg cramps, on top of the fact that I'm still sore from sprinting around the Sith Embassy like some sort psychopath.

Someone's idea of a joke, though, was making sure that Mission sat on my lap during the trip. I guess that's a lot better than having Canderous or Zaalbar do so, or me sitting on them… But when she's wearing light combat armour, complete with two blaster pistols and a small blade, it sure isn't comfortable. Add in my own gear, and this whole ordeal was worse than the trip into the Embassy. I really need to get something worked out, I've been wearing the same silver armour since Taris – heavy, not that effective, and even though it's been patched up, it's kind of an eyesore.

Still, the instant the submarine docked inside the Hrakert Base, I practically dove out onto actual land – erm, metal flooring. I take a step to the left, waiting for everyone to get out of the cramped little vehicle, when I hear a rather loud crunch. Did I step on a twig? Or like a box or something? I look down -.

Oh, god, that's a body – a horribly twisted, mangled mess of a body – especially what was once this individual's face, now it's nothing but a ripped apart mess. I frantically step back, fighting back the urge to get sick.

Nope, couldn't do it. We'll, I'm really off to a good start. I try my best not to look down. I thought I saw some messy things on _Law and Order_, but I guess there's a big difference between that and reality. Especially when you step in it… Oh god…

"The kid's busy getting rid of his last meal," Canderous snorts, aggressively slapping my back. "Suck it up, we've got a job to do – and that won't be the first body we run across."

Great, just what I need. I keep my eyes away from the floor, carefully making each step so that I don't just trudge over some other poor chap's remains. I'm showering after this mess, Darius, and I expect more than five minutes.

I check out our surroundings, and I'm not at all surprised to find that we're in a wrecked up large room – with two pools for submarines to surface in. There's even one in the other body of water… overturned, torn apart – and part of the ceiling above us is coming down on that side. Around us, obviously, are a number of bodies, as well as dropped weapons and supplies. Even a few blood stains adorn the walls – which means this wasn't a product of blaster fire. I know that there's some insane Selkath in here, but even I'm taken aback by how much destruction went on here. The Republic put all this effort into building a base, to get more Kolto, and look how this turned out. Karma is such a bitch.

Mission looks right at me, handling the sight of violence a bit better than I am. "Where are we going from here? There sure isn't an ancient artefact in a newly constructed base."

"Well, if excavation just ran into the Star Map while digging…" I start to say, "You're right. I'm not expert, but I wouldn't think it's in here."

I would have winked just to get the point across, but Mission has to have gotten that. Maybe I need to start coming up with code words? Operation: I Know Everything! Scratch that, sounds stupid as hell.

"That only leaves the ocean floor," Canderous frowns. "We should see what we can find here. The Republic sent a dozen mercenaries, including Mandalorians, and they haven't been heard from again."

"We've already seen quite a few bodies out here," Mission points out, "The Republic science team shouldn't be too large, so maybe we're already looking at what's left of the mercenaries as well."

"Or stepping on them," the Mandalorian says, apparently not content to let me live that one down.

I scowl at Canderous, having to look up a few inches since he's practically towering over me. I'm confident enough to do that, at least. I did help get rid of Jagi back on Dantooine, so that's boosting my current standing with Canderous. At least he and I aren't at each other's throats, like Bastila and I. Whatever happened to having a crew of happy NPC's that all get along? BioWare always seems to get that part down in their games, Obsidian were the guys that had a bunch of people that hated each other in KotOR 2… Though I would be one of those NPC's… Oh, that's a terrifying idea.

Moving on, then.

There's only one door in this room, leading deeper into the station. Above it, lights flicker off and one rapidly. Of course, we've got to have that one in there, along with all the bodies. Why don't we just have some frantic survivor to make things worse and create that feeling of unsettlement?

"I don't know what to expect behind this," Canderous tells us, gesturing at the sealed door in front of us, "Vao, open the door, we'll be ready if anything's one the other side."

Mission just nods, hands on the middle of the door, just over the holographic control panel. I take a spot to the left, ready to swing into action if need be. Canderous does the same on the right, blaster rifle ready. Zaalbar, rather than take a tactical position, just stands there with his bowcaster primed at the door. Um, sure, you do that big guy. I remember from earlier, you might be like the Terminator or something, but I'm a little bit of a coward, so I think I'm just going to stand here while Mission opens the door…

A metallic groan nearly deafens me; apparently someone forgot to use WD-40 on this piece of crap. I turn the corner quickly, pulling my pistol out at the sole target in the next room: a green skinned Twi'lek, cowering in the corner without a single weapon.

"Don't… Don't sho-." The alien stammers, "Don't shoot!"

Oh, not this guy. Mercenary with the voice of Neelix, of all people from Star Trek. Couldn't have Leonard Nimoy or William Shatner or Patrick Stewart – we're stuck with the stupid alien that I think everyone wanted to punch in the face until his eyeballs flew out of his sockets. I should just plug one in him now for that crime against the universe.

"Get up, worm," Canderous tries to pull the mercenary to his feet, but the man just sits there, violently shaking his head. Oh, goodness, it can't have been that bad. The drama, the angst!

"How… how did you get in? Are you a rescue party?" He whimpers, looking up at us. "Did they finally send someone?"

I shake my head, "Mate, they don't know what happened down here. We're looking for something, and we're going in there," I gesture to another door, to the left of the crazy bloke. That's our ticket into even more of the base, I'd say – given that it's the only path. What is it with these places and having so many damn doors?

"No! You can't go in there! I had to close the door, the Selkath were screaming everywhere, swarming over everyone."

For the first time, Zaalbar speaks up. _"So you locked the door on them?"_

"No love among mercs," Mission mutters.

"I had to! If I didn't they would have killed me too! What- What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't care, we're going in, and you're actually going to stop us?" Canderous asks, sarcasm clearly present – though I'm not entirely sure if the Twi'lek with Neelix's voice is going to understand at this point, he's obviously in a pretty bad state. I'd almost feel sorry for him, but since I'm going into that mess, I don't. I'm more worried about me!

Ignoring the alien mercenary, I walk into the small antechamber, carefully checking for anything unusual – like an insane Selkath or anything. I wouldn't think there'd be one here; the merc would probably be screaming his head off. Come to think of it, I might as well.

"No! I'll stop you, you can't open that door!" The nameless mercenary cries, unusually confident. I turn to find him rising up to take a step towards me. Before he can even get to his feet, I push him over, a satisfyingly loud clunk filling my ears as he falls back down.

Wow. That was real difficult. He isn't doing anything now but what looks like crying in a little heap. Heart of courage, I'd say.

"You want to die out there, go ahead..."

This time, I open the door, leading us into a long narrow hallway with windows on either side. The absurdity of this is bothersome, given that at the sea floor, glass would have to be really thick to hold back the pressure of water. At least, I think that's the case. Outside of these windows, though, are a few rather impressive sharks, just swimming back and forth. I've never been into sharks, I've seen _Jaws _– and these Firaxa out there look even worse. Maybe not quite as big as the super shark, but damn, those are really big jaws.

Fuck, a pun.

After we all pass by the windows, which is really starting to remind me of an aquarium I visited a few years ago, we find ourselves about to take our first real steps into the base. From here on out, it's a branching out series of rooms where droids and Selkath alike are out to kill us! Assuming that everything's somewhat similar to the game, and I think it is for once - given how Neelix back there was having a heart attack.

Which also means that we're going to get clawed at by rabid fish people. Here we go again.

Letting Canderous take the lead, I walk into a much larger, open area – I guess that some of the Kolto processing would have occurred here, if people didn't lose their marbles and go nuts. There aren't any bodies out here, which means the mercenaries and Republic personnel that were killed here either were killed all in the hangar, later on… Or the Selkath have become flesh-eating zombies. At this point, I'm not sure I'd bat an eye. Okay, I would, but-.

A loud series of metal footsteps catches my attention, and I've been on Manaan long enough to recognise that what I'm hearing is the sound of an approaching droid.

"_Shouldn't the droids be on our side?"_ Zaalbar growls, standing behind me, heavy breaths going right over my head.

Mission, though, is already tapping into the nearby computer terminal, blue light illuminating her face. Did the computer blue-screen? If I see a computer that's shooting out blue light, my instinct is to cry and reinstall Windows…

"It sounds like the droids are executing some sort of standing order, shooting anyone and anything they don't recognise. They must have been set to do this sometime after whatever it is that happened here."

"_What if we destroy the droid controller system?"_ Zaalbar asks, moving to take a look at the computer system Mission is occupied with.

"That wouldn't work, even if you destroy that, they would continue their last known orders," Mission explains, taking a step away from the computer. So destroying the droid controller _doesn't_ work? Glad to see I'm not the only one that thought _The Phantom Menace_ made no sense. "It just means we've got to deal with droids as well as the Selkath – if that mercenary was to be believed."

"He was pretty spooked," I say, "Probably too freaked out to come up with a lie like that. We might not know how, but all evidence points to the Selkath going nuts out here."

"They must not have been hiring very good mercenaries," Canderous mutters, "A bunch of murderous fish, and everyone is dead? Something isn't right here."

You mean the whole stunt about being the only survivor doesn't add up? Then why does it show up whenever the stakes are high in a movie or game?

I stop, listening carefully. The marching of our robotic foes keeps going, but something else is present – a scratching noise, and what sounds to me like a rabid animal, hissing and growling. It's barely present, especially with the droid getting louder and louder, but I'm almost positive I can hear it. Good thing I never listened too much at some insane volume – adults always said that screwed with your hearing, right? They also said fruit keeps doctors away, so screw them.

Wait… the droid footsteps are getting closer.

The door opens in this computer room, and standing eight feet away is a silver coloured patrol droid – ominously holding a blaster rifle between its metal fingers. It seems to take less than a second to look at us before deciding that we need to be shot. You're giving me less of a chance than anyone else has!

I've fought battle droids in Davik's estate back on Taris, and I've got to say, I think I prefer fighting organic opponents. They mess up. A droid can aim right for your fucking head and figure things out faster than I can. Computers…

I move out of the line of fire, but not quite fast enough, as two shots pass by my legs, coming a little too close to my knees for comfort. Not the best aim for a war machine, but let me try to do a little better?

I ready my own weapon, finger right over the trigger when the droid explodes in a shower of sparks and bits of metal. Canderous, triumphantly standing over the machine's remains, has nothing better to do then show off how he's got an utterly massive gun that rips everything to shreds.

"I'm hiding behind you," I scowl, "Or unless you'd like to trade?"

A howl pierces the air, cutting off my last words. Before I can even make a comment about how rude that really is, I look in the direction where the droid came from – but I really already know what's coming to eat us. About twelve figures in the distance, practically racing in our direction, their alien voices rasping and hissing. None of them look like their armed, but given how zombies generally act the fact that their advancing on us with some haste is nothing short of surprising. As long as more aren't spawned from a plant. The giant fish that's crazy out here just makes the existing Selkath loose it, I think.

"Hey, Mission, you might want to get off," I say, frowning as the Selkath silhouettes are even closer, and Canderous and Zaalbar start pouring blaster bolts into the wave of incoming bodies. The lights flicker off and on, the lights from our blasters being the only illumination, every few flashes, a body falls to the floor, the numbers of the Selkath dwindling. This isn't too bad, almost like shooting fish in a barrel. With four of us, including me now that I can actually hit a moving target, the Selkath's zombie tactics are barely worth noting anymore – they've become growling bowling pins in a dark alley of laser fire.

An instant later, my face is being aggressively rubbed onto the floor, and my blaster skids a decent foot away. I catch my breath quickly, and there's something really heavy on my back, and it's not my armour. I feel heated breathing on my neck, along with a disturbing amount of spit… Selkath, even insane ones, are smarter than I've just been giving them credit for.

"Fuck!" I shout, grabbing at my arm, right after the insane Selkath rips right through my sleeve. I try to elbow the creature in the face, but my shot goes too far. Not even trying to pull an elegant move off, I hit the Selkath – giving me enough time to hop a foot and grab my fallen blaster pistol.

I roll over, my armour digging deep into my ribs before I'm now on my back, pretty much staring into the eyes of the Selkath attacker. Unlike my battle with the Rakghoul on Taris, I'm prepared to fight close range. The fish lurches forward, right into my outstretched leg. It growls even louder than normal. Rather than back off, the crazed Selkath jumps forward, claws outstretched. I flick my wrist and squeeze the trigger of my weapon – a blaster shot passes through the stomach of the alien, and right through its spine.

Gross, an alien corpse. I throw the body off, ignoring the burning smell and smoke rising from the body. That's seriously messed up. Without the Selkath in my face, I can see where he got the better of me: from a mess of cables and tubes that run the length of the room. So much for enemies spawning on the same z-axis as you. I jump back on my feet, backing up into the solid metal panel, but only after checking to ensure that no Selkath come through that entrance. Alright, so now I need to keep an eye peeled in all directions.

Most of the Selkath that decided to charge straight through an enclosed hallway now litter the same room, but now we're all looking at fending off the insane fish from all different angles, as I was so kindly taught a lesson in just a minute ago. Rule number one, check above for bats and crazy Selkath.

To my right, where we came in – Zaalbar's busy taking on four different Selkath, literally tossing one into another. What did I say about bowling pins? He's ditched the whole bowcaster, instead wielding a small vibroblade, cutting the limbs off Selkath left and right. That's pretty gross, but I can take on one at a time. So a Wookiee can do four? That's just showing off. He's got that taken of, and as fast as the Selkath are moving about, I can't risk accidentally shooting Zaalbar – especially when he's the one that never wears any armour.

Okay, turn ninety degrees to the left, there's two different Selkath, along with Mission, who has also turned to using a melee weapon. I got to get one of those. One of the Selkath jumps towards me, but it doesn't just go forward; it's going up as well, almost five feet. Damn! I pistol whip the creature as hard as I can, sending it sprawling. Take that, you shit. Fire once, twice… I don't feel anywhere near as bad about killing these things, they're probably beyond saving. That's what I'm going to be telling myself, I guess.

Spin around… Looks like we got them all for now. Just quite a few bodies and our team. I'm practically panting now, but we came out on top it looks like. Canderous looks no worse for wear, and neither does Mission. Zaalbar's fur seems a little stained, and he's sporting a few little cuts and bruises. Now that I've got time, I look down to my arm – and that's not pleasant. Not a really deep set of cuts, but they nearly run the length of my arm. Stupid fish. Now that I'm looking at it, it really stings, but I'll be alright, my leg still hurts a hell of a lot worse. I probably shouldn't have sprinted on it earlier. Thanks to the wonders of _Star Wars_ medicine, I'm not looking at anything really serious – just quite a bit of pain while the Kolto heals the fracture.

"Everyone still here?" Canderous asks, wiping his arms clear of what was left of the Selkath. "Stephen, still holding onto your last meal?"

"Big Z and I are here," Mission coughs, holstering her vibroblade.

"No wonder no one made it out of here," I mutter. "Oh, I'm here by the way. Thanks for telling me monsters come out of the damn ceiling."

"_Was that all of them?"_ Zaalbar pulls out his bowcaster, closing the door that leads to the submarine bay. Yeah, stop Selkath from messing with our only way out of here. Good idea.

Canderous kicks at one of the bodies in front of him. "About twenty or thirty we just killed? With construction and scientists, I would say there's probably fifty more, and that's if the mercenaries have killed a few of the Selkath."

Fifty?

"The computer here doesn't say anything about any Star Map," Mission frowns, "So then we have to go outside this base? The schematics say that the nearest underwater gear is stored in the Armoury."

"Naturally," I point out, raising an eyebrow.

"And the Armoury is on the other side of the facility," Mission continues, "Along with all the active airlocks. A number of unknown users have accessed the airlocks in the past few days – it's possible there are survivors out on the ocean floor."

"We're not here for survivors, especially ones that ran out to hide. Those oxygen tanks aren't designed for long term use," Canderous says, "Even if we found them, the Selkath can swim. In the water, they have the advantage."

Mission blinks. "We're not going to try and find any survivors? We don't know… They might have an extra supply of air for all we know."

"Yeah? Meanwhile the Jedi get prosecuted by the Selkath, while we're looking for Echani that fled from battle?" Canderous crushes Mission's idea quickly, and while there's not quite a clean cut chain of command here, I'm under the impression that he's in charge – more combat experience and he's got a BFG.

I can see Mission clench her jaw, but she doesn't push the issue any further. I'd hate to side with Canderous here, especially when it's not the moral high ground here, but he's right. Not to mention, I know that anyone out there got gobbled up by the Firaxa.

"Let's head for the Armoury," Canderous orders, "We're covering every possible angle of attack, I don't want any of those Selkath to get the jump on us."

Yeah, me neither. I take a position at the back of our group, blaster at the ready. Time to fight through this. Maybe we'll even come out with some impressive battle scars. Or our faces will be ripped off. One of the two.

I was only moderately worried when I arrived down here, figuring that the Selkath would only show up far off in groups, charging us. Now, I'm watching every corner, even the goddamn ceiling for these things. Every little spark or flicker in the lights, my hands tense on my blaster. The slightest noise, even steam flowing from a piece of broken pipe, and I nearly shoot like crazy. I've been in combat several times already, but this is the first where I've been truly afraid.

* * *

Lucky for us, the remaining Selkath didn't attack en masse, and with all of us keeping an eye in different directions, it was a relative ease to keep them at bay. That being said, I was still on edge, watching every corner like a hawk. When we finally made it into the Armoury, I breathed a sigh of relief, only to have scampering sounds jolt me back to action. The doors into the room are sealed, but I can't afford to have another sudden Selkath attack.

The Armoury's just as it was in the game, a circular chamber lined with lockers and empty containers – everything's scattered and appears rummaged and tossed about. The Republic must have made a last ditch effort to get weapons here, given how many bodies practically made a trail for us to follow, the number of corpses rising every step towards the Armoury. Every single body I've seen just seems to… dull the effect at this point. I haven't thrown up again, but I'm too afraid at this point.

Fear is working to keep me alive. For now.

Stuffed in a locker, though, are quite a few yellow painted diving suits, waiting for us to use them. While everything else is scattered all over the room, interestingly the suits are still there all together. While some of the mercenaries must have taken to the sea floor, apparently the idea was not pleasant enough for everyone to do it. Just above them, on a shelf, are half a dozen sonic emitters- little handheld devices. Whoever developed these were even nice enough to include a datapad manual. Tech support, indeed.

I stumble reaching for the datapad, while keeping on alert. Once I'm positive that the rest of the squad is covering me, I holster my weapon and active the datapad. I briefly scan it myself, remembering how these things work from the game. For everyone else, though, better fill them in.

""In response to those Firaxa sharks outside," I read aloud, "We managed to whip a little something in the workrooms. This is a sonic emitter which should scare them off. It seems to work quite a bit better underwater. If you were to attach it to your diving suit, you wouldn't have any problems."

"The Firaxa were a problem before now?" Mission frowns. "I can't say I like the sound of this very much."

"There's four suits, and outside is the only way we're getting to the Jedi's Star Map," Canderous growls. "Wookiee? You going to fit in one of these things, or have you developed gills?"

"_Barely," _Zaalbar mutters, grabbing one of the helmets, turning it over in his hands. I watch as he takes the largest piece of equipment, as well as one of the sonic emitters. Canderous does the same, right as a crashing sound grabs my attention.

Blaster armed, ready… Come on, Selkath. Just come out and stop fucking with me here. It's not very nice.

A few moments later, my heart still racing, I figure that it's nothing. False alarm. The doors to the armoury are sealed, and this room is meant to be a bit better protected – at least I'd hope so, given how an armoury is supposed to hold weapons and stuff of that likeness. I turn back to the locker, reaching for my own equipment, the last remaining underwater survival gear. Damn, that's actually pretty heavy. With my remaining hand, I snatch one of the precious sonic emitters, clipping it onto my belt. Seeing Mission and the others heading for the Armoury door – not the one we came in, but the hatch to the airlock.

I'm pretty much dragging this stupid diving suit, nearly dropping it when I hit a bump when I walk into the airlock. Being the last one in, I wave my hand in front of the door sensor, happy to hear the portal shut. That's two doors between us and the Selkath. The facility isn't too badly damaged, and nothing should get in airlock, otherwise water would flood the whole facility. In the game, there was a survivor out there – meaning that when he left the base, it would have let water in then.

I stare at the pieces of the suit in front of me, not exactly sure what to do. Especially not with this armour here… I look over to Canderous, surprised to see him removing a layer of his heavy armour behind, along with his repeating blaster rifle. I'm a bit hesitant to part with my armour, as much as I don't like it sometimes… Reluctantly, I reach for the clasps in between my shoulder plates and the jumpsuit underneath the military suit. Left one, off… Right one… There we go. I let the front plate fall into my arms, carefully placing it on the ground.

Damn, that's not the same shiny silver I started with. Even before today, there was discolouring, mostly from the patchwork I had done. But now, after Manaan, there's a blackened scorch mark, along with Selkath guts and quite a few deep scratches. It's served me well. I reach for the armour protecting my back, putting it next to the other plate. The shoulders soon join in, along with my belt and blaster pistol.

"Underwater suit up!" I chuckle, throwing the helmet over my head.

About five minutes later, along with some help from Mission, I'm covered from head to toe in a yellow, bulky diving get-up. I feel like an astronaut!

"Communications check, over." Canderous barks, voice filling my helmet. I see him trudging to the other side of the airlock, hand over the controls. Zaalbar walks next to me, after dropping our gear back in the armoury.

I tap the side of my helmet. "I'm a go…" Nobody else says anything… Oh, crap. "Over."

Zaalbar growls over the intercom, my in-ear translator quickly does its job.

Once the Wookiee finishes, the sound of muffled alarms barely register in my ears – apparently I can still hear in this, but not very well. Above us, red lights flash off and on, while the airlock door in front of us slowly opens. Wait, we're not going into space, which means that this room is going to… Crap.

I'm nearly blown back by the force of the water entering the pressure chamber. Okay… That wasn't too bad. It's unsettling to have water all around, not to mention I haven't done anything like this before. I step forward, and I quickly find that BioWare sure was right about something; moving in this diving suit is awful. Left… Right… I'm going less than a mile an hour here, and I finally step out of the room, and onto the ocean floor, dirt kicking up around me.

I don't see any man eating sharks…

I hate walking underwater. It's taking hours to get anywhere, and every single step we've taken, I've felt worse and worse about this. Not from nerves, but there's just something about this place – a tingling on the back of my neck, or butterflies in my stomach. My gut says everything is wrong.

Over the past hour, our team at least got some ground covered – though I'm quite a bit more worried than I was before. Where we were supposed to learn more about the Selkath and the Firaxa is flooded – meaning the expositional scientists are gone. Along with everyone else finding out what we need to do. At least the mercenary survivor was out there, until a Firaxa swept by and carried him off. I wasn't too surprised, but it wasn't the most pleasant thing I've ever witnessed.

"Mission, Private Channel," The Twi'lek's voice rings through my helmet, which proudly displays "_Private Chat_" in a dark blue font across my vision.

"Go ahead," I reply, while slowly moving forward behind who I think is Canderous.

"You might not want to say anything to Big Z and Canderous, but what's going out here?"

I bit my lip, looking around as best as I can. "The Republic dug something up," I explain, thinking back to _Halo _and the Flood. "A really, really big shark – and it drove the Selkath and Firaxa out here insane. You know, in the game, Darius would be the one out here by himself."

"How are we meant to pass by it without being eaten alive?"

I stop walking, seeing one of the Firaxa sharks weave through the water towards our group. God's sake, I'm really glad that I can't hear anything outside in the water that well – Canderous' sonic emitter is louder than hell. The grey beast turns 180 degrees, practically shooting away as fast as possible.

Shut up Firaxa! I wish I had a wrench to club you with!

You mean they don't just roll over and float because the Odyssey engine has no vertical depth?

"By the big shark? Either we poison it, or we blow up some equipment to appease it."

One of my three companions looks at me, face hidden by the blue visor. I should be talking to Mission, so that one is her. Okay, got it. It's like keeping your eye on the one coin when they spin around and shit.

"Oh, and if we poison the giant Firaxa, it'll ruin all the Kolto," I add. Let's make sure that the line is still private, I'd hate to just be blurting this crap out. Oh, goodness. I've got to be careful about this. I don't think Canderous would have a problem, or Zaalbar – more or less, but Bastila or Darius… "The problem is the flooded base we passed by was supposed to still be there – we should have learned about this an hour ago."

"I still can't believe everything's in a video game," Mission mutters through a considerable amount of static. "Even Zaalbar and I?"

I nod before realising that it was a futile effort. "Everyone except Darius. And me, I guess. Trust me, I don't know what happened. When I showed up on Taris, I tried to figure it. But, I've just decided to deal with it for now."

"I wouldn't have believed you if you didn't have proof," Mission bluntly says. "I'm still a little sceptical, to be honest with you."

Oh, geez. What else can I say, maybe something from the future? I can't say the big twist, there's no way she'd believe that Darius is Revan. I've considered breaking that one to the Jedi, but I don't know… I still fucking hate Master Vrook, but he had a point: what if the Dark Lord returns? He's going to find out sooner or later, how much would that change if I busted the twist early?

Too many variables!

I'll just have to figure this one out later. If anything, I could dull the sharp realisation a bit.

"Griff's on Tatooine," I finally say. "At least, in the video game he was." Better correct myself just in case there's no slimy git there.

Before I can finish, another voice rips through my headset. "We're getting close to the Kolto harvesting machinery," Canderous observes, gesturing to the complex in front of us, circled by Firaxa and other wildlife. Damn, they really don't like that stuff, do they? Pissed off sharks are what starts things like _Jaws: The Revenge_. Wait that might have been just me that pissed off, I don't remember anymore.

To the right, though, are a number of excavation tools, all overturned and damaged. The only remaining pieces of equipment that are still operational seem to be a number of overhead lights, all focused on one circular clearing in the rift, which is just over the undersea horizon. The Hrakert Rift, source of Manaan's valuable Kolto. Oh, they'd be so pissed if we poisoned that. While the water's murky, or my contacts have slipped out, I know what's being lit up: the recently discovered Star Map, an object of interest before this disaster occurred.

At least it's pretty easy to find.

"There's the dig site," Mission mutters, no longer sounding pleased. "The Star Map's going to be nearby. So, what do we do about that thing, though?"

About twenty meters to the right of the Star Map's location, is the same giant Firaxa that I had just mentioned, lurking back and forth, massive jaws gaping. Seeing the beast… That feeling from before is flaring – I am so sure that I'm going to be ill here. The Firaxa were more than capable of eating one of us whole. This could swallow the _Ebon Hawk_ whole! Look at the size of that thing!

Sure, I nearly got eaten by a Rancor, but this… At least I might not feel it.

"There's no way we can just walk in there," Mission's voice is just a little more than a whisper.

"We could blow up the machinery," I casually suggest, since we didn't have NPC's to tell us that's an option.

I can hear Canderous snort over the line, which means he took the effort to transmit before doing that. "What good would that do? There's far too much pressure this deep, any explosion is going to cause an implosion. The Firaxa won't be affected."

"That's not it," I say, "These things only went insane when the machinery was built. So we get rid of it for them."

"And what happens if that doesn't work?" Canderous argues. If it wasn't for what I know, I'd actually be inclined to agree with the Mandalorian.

"Doesn't change anything," I point out, "There would still be some angry man eating sharks."

The line is dead silent for a few seconds, until Zaalbar roars and growls in his own language. Our communications have just enough static that my translator doesn't fill me in on what he's saying.

"Zaalbar's right," Mission chimes in, "This is a recent development, and most wildlife reacts poorly to anything like this. Just look at what happened back on Kashyyyk in the Shadowlands."

"We're not risking everyone," Canderous says, "Stephen, you're going up there, the rest of are going to stay here. You don't make it back, we're going to find another way to the Star Map."

That's nice of them, make me go out there. Mandalorian courage doesn't include facing sharks? I think if you can drop from orbit in a droid, you can punch a shark in the mouth. I head over to the control panel and fuel injectors that are only about fifty feet away, far enough from the Firaxa and the giant monster of death. Let's see… It shouldn't be too hard to release something that'll be quite explosive.

"Griff's on Tatooine," Mission says, returning us to the private chat and our previous conversation. "You could have mentioned that earlier, I haven't seen him in years."

"Sorry," I grit my teeth nervously, "That fell into the department of hiding my origins, so I wasn't sure how I could tell you that without you thinking something really weird is going on. We'll see when we get there though. In _Knights of the Old Republic_, Griff was working for Czerka on Tatooine."

I'm not mentioning the part about how he's captive by the Tusken Raiders, though.

"If you're right, we've got to find him when we go there. And if Lena's there… I've got a few words for her!"

"Right…" I drop the conversation, tapping the panel in front of me, trying to read the tiny font through the water. "I'm at the control console, I'm going to see what I can do from here."

Okay, um. How do I log into this?

"I take it the computer isn't the same one from your game?" Mission laughs, and she's pretty familiar with my talent for working with computers here. Or rather, the fact that I don't have a single drop of skill. Someone didn't level this guy up with any computer use skill. Or any skills at all, it seems. Maybe a bit of persuade.

"No," I frown. "The puzzles were always really easy in those games… This is like working with Windows Vista."

Okay, there. I'm in the computer system. At least there's no security on this, at least not to log in. You figure that you build a secret undersea operation; nobody is going to come down and visit, right? Wrong!

I access the controls, finding something that's talking about fuel pressure and how at 4 million PSI, it'll detonate. That's exactly it! Thanks for warning me… As best I can with this gear on, I thumb through several menus, transferring fuel from across different pipes. 2 million PSI… 2.5… There's got to be more in here. I move a bit more of the substance to the main holding tank, and the computer's alarms go off in response. 4 million, there we go.

Taking a few steps back, I look up to see my handiwork, the machinery exploding overhead. Rather than fly outwards, like I've seen before, the structure collapses inward, without its structure intact, the entire building is crushed.

Time to get the damn Star Map.

* * *

I have never so happy to see the artificial light of day. Between the sharks, the cramped suits and the whole mess with the Star Map – Ahto City is a paradise. I wonder how much it costs to live here, besides the obvious downside being that big fish is watching your every mood. Still, it wouldn't be the worst place to be, I'm thinking. Better than a tiny rack on a spaceship.

"Let's head over and meet up with the Jedi, the sooner we get off this planet, the better," Canderous commands, striding through the Republic Embassy with ease, the military personnel stepping away from the Mandalorian and the massive Wookiee as well.

"Here we go," I mutter, right as Zaalbar opens the door leading out of the Republic Embassy. Once that heavy piece of metal is out of the way, though, we all find ourselves face to face with a dozen Selkath and their armed droids. I wonder if I can cry 'you'll never take me alive!' and get away with it.

"_Halt!"_ one of the Selkath cries dramatically, _"All communication with our undersea crews have been lost, an explosion was detected near the Hrakert Rift, and our spy cameras within the Republic Embassy reveal that you four returned in a submarine less than an hour after the explosion. Come with us, you are all under arrest."_

It took less than an hour to get up here? That's news to me.

I better not try my luck, so I'm dead silent while they slap some sort of futuristic cuffs on me and the rest of the group. Thanks, I was totally planning on doing something awesome and breaking out of here when you have the superior numbers. Rather than take our weapons, I guess we're just going to walk around like chickens.

A few moments later, we're unceremoniously shoved into the courtroom that we tried to gain access to earlier today. All five of the Selkath judges are present across the room, each behind a grey desk with a computer. To the right are a few members of the Sith, and to the left are Darius and Bastila, though they're lacking their traditional lightsabers and aren't handcuffed like we are. Hello again, chaps.

"_We've brought them," _The Selkath behind us reports, and I bet he's all proud of himself. If I could turn around and smack him, I would.

"_Leave us," _The lead Selkath judge, right in the middle, says. At his command, I can hear all of the Selkath depart, as well as the droids. I'm sure there's some guarding the room, but at least they're not putting a gun right down my back. I'm a bit puzzled to see the Sith leave as well – only the Jedi and the judges are present. Along with a few droid guards I can see out of the corner of my eye. So much for an audience.

"Nice to see you all again," Darius says, the hint of a smile forming across his weary features. "Found any maps wherever you went?"

I open my mouth to answer, right as one of the Selkath judges does so as well – the lead one in the centre.

"_Jedi Rayner, you stand with these accused. We have no doubt they acted on your orders." _That might be a bit of a jump, but sure, we'll go with that one I suppose. _"These off-worlders are responsible for a large detonation near the Hrakert Rift. The Ahto City Authority has commenced. Presiding are judges Duula…"_

"_Jhosa," _another of the judges chimes in. Okay, they're listing off or something.

"_Naleshekan."_

"_Kota."_

"… _and Shelkar."_

That's not quite what I remember, but honestly the whole order of whose on top in this isn't something I was keen to take note of. Sounds like this Duula is in charge, but I could have sworn Shelkar was the Chief Justice here. Screw it, they were all about neutrality and that stuff to begin with. Won't make much of a difference.

The four of us stand next to Bastila and Darius, and the later looks pretty confused. "Not guilty, your honours. I've already explained the incident in the Sith Embassy, and I'm sure my crew would not intentionally cause widespread destruction on your planet."

Oh, so he's already got the Sith Embassy crap sorted out? I'm surprised, given how much of a mess we were making back there. Unless Darius and all of us are getting into some trouble. I don't know, but that is a very real possibility. Still, neither of the Jedi know what I do – or what Roland Wann told us, the whole ordeal about part of the Selkath government building a secret Kolto production facility…

"Actually, we're guilty," I abruptly add, "We destroyed the Kolto harvesting machinery near the Rift. The one that both the Republic and your government set up." Might as well say it, at least one of them has to know what they've been up to down there.

"_The Selkath have not set up any harvesting equipment in the Hrakert Rift," _Duula interjects, scowling at me. Sod off, fish.

"_We know of this,"_ Shelkar interrupts from the right side of the courtroom.

"_What are you talking about?"_ Duula asks his fellow judge, and receives only silence in return. _"Speak, or I will have you ejected from this court!"_

I step forward towards the judges, even though they're fighting amongst each other. "There was an effort made by the Republic to obtain Kolto directly from the Rift," I explain. Why am I the one doing this? "You might not know of it, your honour, but that's the story. We had to destroy it. A giant Firaxa drove the Selkath workers insane."

"_A giant Firaxa?" _Jhosa exclaims, and while the translator might not adequately express his surprise, I'm positive it's present in his alien speech. _"Could it be the Progenitor?"_

"_That is not for outsiders to hear,"_ another of the Selkath commands, the one named Kota. _"… Especially if they killed it."_

"We.. I blew up the machinery to save it," I say quietly, the vivid memory of destroying the Kolto machinery playing back in my mind. At least we didn't poison the thing, that would have ruined everything. And as much as I get scuffed up in combat, I don't want the Kolto supply tainted. "We didn't have a choice."

"_Not only did your government violate the treaty, you went and destroyed a valuable resource on the ocean floor!" _Duula shouts before any of the other judges can interject. _"I was right to support the Sith – the Republic has betrayed us and our neutrality."_

"You know just as well as we do that the Sith would rampage over this world if it were not for the Republic," Bastila backs me up, "Just like Taris, Manaan would burn under a wave of weapon's fire, consuming your people as well as Ahto City."

"_Taris is a lie, forged by Republic propaganda," _Naleshekan buts in, crossing his arms. _"I agree with Duula, the Sith possess power, which the Republic lacks."_

The Chief Justice adds in as well. _"Our Kolto will allow us to make allies of the Sith, and damage a wounded Republic even further. We were unaware that the Republic had chosen to break our laws and try to manipulate us –with the consent of my colleagues."_

Darius raises an eyebrow, watching the exchange take place between the aliens. I glance at him, shrugging. "I take it you don't all agree here," the Jedi mutters, sarcasm seeping into his voice. So much for 'your honour' stuff.

"_It does not matter what they have done, Jedi. With this evidence, I can have the Republic removed from Manaan, and your group executed for your crimes against the Ahto City High Court."_

Oh, I wasn't expecting that. Well then… "You can do that?" I question, frowning. When did courts have so much power in a culture? This isn't a good sign at all, if the Chief Justice can do that.

"_You will be silent or your verdict will be decided without you," _Naleshekan informs me. Geez, you're an asshole.

One of the pro-Republic judges, Kota, at least seems willing to stand up for me here. _"This isn't how our system works, even if they are off-worlders. You aren't capable of making that decision."_

"_And you are not permitted to openly side with the Republic and construct Kolto mining structures on the Rift!" _Duula spits back. _"These humans could have very well destroyed the Progenitor, or the entire supply of Kolto!"_

"This isn't about us," Darius exclaims, stepping up beside me, "It's about you five, you don't know whether to side with the Republic or the Sith."

The Chief Justice turns to face us, rather than continue to argue with his companions. _"Now that we've found the Republic violating our laws, the choice is quite simple, Jedi. Thanks to you, we can remove your dying government from our world and side with the more powerful group, and ensure our own safety."_

"And what happens if the Sith loose?" I ask, ignoring the fact that I was told to be quiet. I'm getting out of this alive, thanks. And as long as Darius doesn't start batting for the Sith… "The Republic's coming out on top. I guarantee it."

"_The Sith would say the same, human. And I am more inclined to believe them, given the size and efficiency of their fleet compared to the Republic's struggling Navy."_

"You're inclined to trust the Sith?" I challenge, confident now that I've got the Selkath where I want him. "That's pretty ironic, actually. I take it you don't know the Sith have been abducting Selkath youth and training them in the ways of the Sith – all in order to overthrow your government."

"_What are you talking about?" _Shelkar blinks a few times, the eyes on other side of his face boring into me.

Hell yes! Thank goodness I did all the sidequests, and I even remember them! The story about the Sith

"_Likely just listening to Shaelas' stories about his missing daughter," _Naleshekan dismisses my claim. I really don't like this guy either.

"I have spoken with him," I clarify, fighting the urge to triumphantly smirk. "You can ask him yourself. You're already investigating the Sith base, look a little bit harder. A Sith master is training them; they've got lightsabers and everything."

"_The Sith are planning to wipe us out with our own people?"_ Naleshekan questions, pressing me for further information.

"Our astromech droid has a copy of the Sith mainframe," Mission speaks up, "We haven't had time to look through their encrypted files, or even decode them, but there might be evidence in there."

All right!

"_Even if the Sith were planning this, it doesn't change the fact that the Republic has still broken the treaty established when they arrived on Manaan," _Duula points out. Geez, I really think you're a stubborn shit.

The judge with the insane name, Naleshekan, quickly adds his own opinion. Great, more pro-Sith shit. _"Some of us here set up the Republic harvesting efforts, they did not intend to murder members of our government and dictate the Kolto exports by force. If these humans are correct, I would say that the Sith have committed a far more grievous act than the Republic has."_

Well, there are two pro-Sith judges, and now I think there's one less. Too bad the last one happens to be the Chief Justice.

"You found out about that in the Embassy?" Darius whispers, moving only a few inches away from face. I only nod, more focused on the judges than anything else.

"_As judges of the Ahto City court, we need to investigate this claim," _Jhosa points out, much to my own happiness.

"_No, I'm shutting this case down, and you will fall in line," _Duula commands angrily. _"There is no real evidence at this time that the Sith were planning to assassinate members of the Ahto City Executive Council."_

"_You don't have the authority to do that!" _Shelkar objects. _"Droids! Take Chief Justice Duula into custody."_

Well, this is escalating quite quickly. "You already knew about this," I realise, "I'd guess you were probably involved with it, right? Either that, or you've just decided to screw the ideas that your fellow Selkath have at least tried to uphold. No wonder you've decided to side with the bag guys."

"_Droids, you are ordered to execute the defendants immediately, and take the other justices into custody pending formal charges." _

A stand-off! I draw my blaster pistol, aiming it as best I can at Duula's head. A lot like when I shot the Sith officer earlier… No, don't think about that.

"No official verdict has been given by this court," one of the droids behind me states, and surprisingly, it does so in a language that I understand. "I'm sorry, but I cannot do that, Duula. Your order is illegal and will not be carried through."

Did that droid just … Oh, dear…

"You will come with us, Judge Duula," the battle droid commands, stepping past me, blaster trained on the Selkath, just as mine is.

Duula quietly walks out from behind his desk, defeated. I was expecting a classical villain approach, maybe he'd try to resist arrest, but he at least seems decent enough not to do that. I holster my weapon, watching the alien being escorted out of the courtroom. Victory doesn't seem quite so satisfying right now, though.

"_Jedi Rayner and Shan, you're cleared of all charges,"_ Shelkar declares, stepping into the middle of the remaining judges. _"If the Sith are found to be planning to overthrow the government, we will disbar them from the planet. However, the Republic has violated the treaty. As such, there will be a large fine incurred for this, especially since the Kolto machinery was destroyed."_

"We understand, your honours," Darius bows, turning back into a respectful and proper Jedi. "We will be departing Manaan within the hour, and won't be troubling you any longer."

"_See that you don't," _Kota tilts his head to one side, _"Destruction seems to follow you on a regular basis, Jedi."_

Wow… That went pretty well. I follow the others out of the courtroom, happy to be out that whole ordeal.

"Alright, we've worn out our welcome, get everyone back to the _Ebon Hawk_,. Tatooine is waiting for us," Darius orders, and I start to make my way back to the hangar, before the Jedi stops me. "I need to speak to you privately. As private as it gets here, anyway."

Oh, shit. Here it comes.

"You did a hell of thing in there, and I didn't expect you to come to my aid in the Embassy, but if you ever disobey one of my direct orders again, I _will_ throw you off my ship. When you were in that undersea base, I sure considered it. Pull another stunt like that, though…"

"I understand, sir," I reply quickly.

Darius doesn't look entirely convinced, but his words made the message quite clear. I better be on my best behaviour. Still, we're on seemingly good terms. Too bad I can't say the same for me and the Jedi princess.

Darius walks off, following the rest of the group. Okay, it's time to go, I guess. I take a final look at Ahto City, admiring the beauty around me. The Selkath sure know how to make a city look nice, that's for sure.

"_Human, I thought you were leaving,"_ A Selkath walks up next to me, and if I'm not mistaken, it's actually Shelkar, but I can't quite tell.

"Yeah, sorry," I apologise. "I just wanted a last look at this place. I don't think I'll be finding myself anywhere near as nice as Ahto City for quite a while."

"_You spoke well back there, and if I understand humans correctly, you're also quite young."_

I sigh loudly, biting on my lip. "Tell me about it. Never too young to run around the galaxy, saving the Republic from the evils of the Sith."

"_Best of luck to you,"_ the Selkath reaches out… Aliens shake hands too? Regardless, I accept the gesture, ignoring the unusual texture of his hand.

Off to Tatooine, then. Maybe there I'll be getting some answers.

**Review please!**


	17. Chapter 17: I Hate Sand

Chapter 17: I Hate Sand

"Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood."

~Marie Curie

**Author's Note: Tatooine. HK-47. Need I say more? We're done with Manaan, so bring one the next planet. Deserts, assassin droids and Jedi? Yep. I had some trouble with this one – I lost quite a bit of work when a power outage happened – and I hadn't saved. That'll teach me.**

**Your reviews and support thus far have been outstanding. Thanks for everything! I never thought this story would get more than a handful of reviews. Now I'm almost at 250? Wow.**

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I squeeze the trigger of my blaster a dozen times, firing rapidly at the approaching Tusken Raider. Beside me, Bastila's double bladed yellow lightsaber flows through the air, far more elegant than my own weapon, batting back lasers, and occasionally slicing through a Sand Person when they were far too close. A few hours ago, the ability to shoot a Tusken from a distance, hit him, and be able to get him out of this fight would have been something to be quite proud of. At this point, I don't even care. Another Tusken Raider is dead, which only means one thing: I'm less likely to be killed.

I've already sweat my own weight, sand somehow managed to get just about everywhere in my armour and boots, and my eyes physically hurt from squinting in the sunlight for hours on end. Whoever designed this combat gear clearly never intended it for desert use, that's for sure – especially since the jumpsuit underneath the armour plates is black. I'm also sure I've been sunburned all over my face, which ought to be loads of fun when it peels. Should've listened to my mother about sunscreen back on Earth… and then brought some here. I needed a backpack and stuffed it full of useful things before being flung across dimensions.

Beside me, T3-M4 beeps and whistles. I don't need to know what the machine is saying, since we've been at this for so long. More Tusken Raiders. They've come back, and in greater numbers. The Hutts weren't kidding about these guys – they're a force to be reckoned with. Even with Bastila covering T3 and I, blaster-fire still makes its way towards us, making this battle even more fun, especially since there's no cover to speak of out in Tatooine's Dune Seas.

I can't believe I wanted to come here.

When we stepped off the _Ebon Hawk_, I was optimistic, glad to finally step foot on this planet. That changed quite quickly. Czerka has been all but destroyed by the Sand People, leaving the Hutts in charge of the planet's operations, but they're facing the same menace thanks to the natives. No one had any clue where the Star Map would be located, and interestingly enough, there were no Jawas to be seen out here. Anchorhead, the city we landed in, had obviously been not well cared for in the past few months, so we took to the endless desert, desperate for anything that would lead us to the Star Map. Privately, I hoped that we would find something quickly, otherwise I would have to break my silence just to avoid being out here forever. I should have said _something_, that's for sure.

Darius had us break into three teams, each with a Jedi leading the group – and we were told to find anything. I was paired with Bastila and T3-M4, whereas Darius led his own group: Carth and Canderous. Jolee took the final team; Zaalbar and Mission. I wasn't happy to be paired with the Jedi princess, but I'm not convinced this wasn't Darius' doing, maybe to get us on better terms. Stupid pillock.

We were out in the middle of nowhere when they attacked, and it's been at least twenty or thirty minutes. I might not like Bastila, but she's the only reason I'm still alive. At least she knew from her visions that the Star Map would be sheltered in a cave – that gave us something to go on, but finding anything in the Dune Sea would be akin to finding a needle in a haystack.

I don't know how many Sand People I've shot down, probably not that many, but there's a small army gunning for us, howling in their language. At least they're blunt and charge right for us – from every single possible direction. I'm still not over being jumped on by the insane Selkath… that being said there weren't so many of them.

None of us have heard from the other teams, but we're due back in Anchorhead in less than an hour – assuming we can make it back in one piece. That might be something of a challenge out here.

"Another one down!" I holler, firing at more of the Tuskens. Okay, reload blaster pistol. Fire again. Wait, did I just have my own combat dialogue? Not the worst one I've ever heard, but I need to think of some better ones. Enemies are everywhere! No, that's awful, don't use that.

I'm practically back to back with T3, but the little guy isn't doing so well out here, especially since he's so low to the ground. Earlier Bastila and I had to practically dig him out of a particularly high dune, though I think T3 did most of the work there. Too bad he can't fly like R2 could in those prequels. Though, in a trade-off, T3 could get a flamethrower later, if we spent the money to invest in one. At this point, that would be pretty nice; I wouldn't even mind the heat now. The little droid beeps and whistles again, but not the same tune as before. If I say what you're think you're saying… Yeah, let's get out of here.

"I think it's time we got out of here," I say to Bastila, hoping that she can hear me over the sound of weapons fire and her own lightsaber. "We're not going to find anything out here, and there's too many of them."

Move to the right, avoid weapons fire. Good, I'm still here. I aim my weapon to fire once more, right as something slams into my side, knocking me over into the sand.

Ah! Sand… in my face…

I spit as much of it as I can out of my mouth – but it's everywhere! Now that I'm on all fours, my face no longer buried in the sand – I'm really fucking glad I didn't have my eyes open when I fell. That would have been nasty. I get back on my feet as quickly as possible, weapon at the ready.

T3, who was next to me just a minute ago, is a few feet away – knocked over in the sand. I don't see any Tusken Raiders nearby, so I dart over to the droid, pulling it back on its 'legs.' Bastila, though, has her lightsaber no longer activated, and is still standing triumphantly, one arm raised above her head. Wait a minute… That's the animation they always used in the game for Force powers. You're telling me they don't ignore friendlies after all? This is bogus!

"You could have warned me you were going to do that," I spit more dirt out of my mouth, scowling. Looking around the endless waves of the Dune Sea, though, I have yet to see a Tusken Raider within several meters, and the ones I can see are running the other direction. I guess Bastila's little trick worked in that regard, but there's going to be crap everywhere on me for several weeks. Months, probably.

Bastila's face is emotionless. "I did what I needed to. The Tusken Raiders are easily startled, but if we don't return to Anchorhead, they will be back in greater numbers."

"How did you know that?" I glare at the Jedi woman, a little bit puzzled. It's not like we received any information from the Hutts about the Sand People, and somehow she's referencing the original Star Wars films?

"When they initially attacked, they were quick to retreat when I used by lightsaber," Bastila clarifies, "That being said, that was the only way we would get any chance to disengage from this conflict and get back to Anchorhead."

"I don't like being on the receiving end," I roll my eyes, and T3-M4 speaks up as well. "Even if it was necessary… Let's get going..."

I sigh heavily, but rather than put my gun away, I'm going to keep it in my hand. I look all around us, finally spotting the walled city of Anchorhead in the distance, and I squint just to make sure it's no illusion out here. Nope, that's definitely it. Bastila and T3 have already started trekking back to the colony, and I might as well do so too. Before the Tuskens get back out here and kill all of us. I'm a bit worried about getting HK-47, but if he can least get the Sand People off our backs, that would be worth being called "meatbag" all the damn time.

In the distance, I can still hear the shouting and roaring of the Sand People, their distinctive noises sound just like they do from the _Star Wars_ films. Too bad they're a bunch of murderers. In that battle alone, I've had enough close calls to last quite a while. At least I've learned enough since I've arrived on Taris. If I met Tusken Raiders then, I would have been slain and ripped apart by their gaffi sticks.

Compared to where I lived on Earth, I wish I was actually from the desert. Maybe this wouldn't be so foreign. No, wait, nowhere on Earth are there two suns. I look up, seeing both the stars locked in the sky, not a cloud in the air to block out the light. There's a slight breeze out here, which I thought would make things a bit better. Instead, the sand has been flying across the desert, and right now we're walking right into it.

I'm falling behind the rest of the small group. At least the walls of the city are really damn close. Thank god. I can't even image being out here at night, or in a damn sandstorm. Ahead of me, Bastila stops for just a few moments, enough that now I'm just behind her – I was running a bit behind, after all.

"I thought you'd make sure I'm left behind," I mutter angrily, "You know, get back at me for what happened on Dantooine." Let's not forget that I did yell at the Jedi Council, and because of that, Bastila and I haven't been on good terms since. Especially since she was the one that got me in that meeting to start with. I was thinking that me getting us all out of the trouble on Ahto City would have helped – they wouldn't even let the _Ebon Hawk_ depart until they verified the evidence I brought forward.

"No," Bastila answers bluntly. "I may not agree, but you are on the team with the rest of us. You're under my command right now, and I'm not leaving anyone behind."

Huh. Noble enough.

"We're practically there, though," I point out, wiping sweat off my burned forehead. I'm going get the last shot here. "Thanks for your well placed concern." Since we're just outside Anchorhead, I holster my blaster pistol. While this planet might be ruled by a bunch of fat-ass gangsters, I wouldn't want to get on their bad side by holding an armed weapon in my hand.

Except for the whole part about how run down this town is, it's a lot like the game. Hangar bay on one end of the city, and the exit to the Dune Sea on the other. Which means the cantina is around here somewhere, as well as the droid shop where our beloved assassin droid is waiting for us. I hope, that is. Since we haven't been there yet, I have no idea for sure – especially when we didn't get T3-M4 until recently.

I watch as T3 opens the gate into the city, walking back into Anchorhead. Hasn't changed in the past couple hours, that's something. All three of us step inside, and the solid metal structure closes behind us – an effort made by Czerka to keep the Tusken Raiders out. From what the Hutts told us, that worked, but Czerka's mining efforts in the dunes where ruined time and time again, and that's why Czerka's getting ready to leave Tatooine for good.

"We're back early," I note, completely ignoring Bastila and I's previous conversation. "Where are we supposed to meet Darius' and Jolee's teams? I'm not standing here for an hour." It's fucking hot, and the sooner I find a fan, that would be awesome.

Bastila turns to face me again, looking a little cross. "What would you propose? That we sit in the local cantina on our hands?"

That doesn't sound too bad, Miss Jedi! "What else are we going to do? Punch Gizka aboard the ship for another hour?" True to the video game, a bunch of pesky Gizka were thrown aboard our ship. I haven't been aboard since, but I'm not looking forward that either. Hopefully we pick up that poison or some other way to get rid of them. They're cute enough, but a swarm of pets hanging out where I sleep? No thanks.

I take it that she sees my point, and gives a defeated shrug. "I'll be in contact with Darius and Jolee in a few moments. You and T3 go on; I'll join you in just a moment."

Good enough for me, then. Just across the block is the cantina, less than a minute walk. With T3 behind me, I push open the door into the small building. Oh, damn, the smell. Not to mention the smoke that practically puffs out the door the instant I open it. But on the other hand, a gust of cold air accompanies the cloud. Oh, glorious! Air conditioning might be the best thing I've ever had the fortune of enjoying. Never again will I complain about anything sucking, as long as I have a cooled environment.

I'm half expecting someone to shout "Hey! We don't serve their kind in here," in regards to T3, but this day in age nobody seems to care that a droid's in here. I look around the cramped bar, seeing a few Jawas, humans and Twi'leks and Duros. Healthy mix, that's for sure. Never understood racism against aliens. At least in _Star Wars_, with the exception of the enslaved Wookiees, there's not too much of that. Some of it, sure, but not a lot. Thank goodness, I can't stand bigots.

Heading for the exit is a woman clad in the colours of Czerka, the first that I've seen this whole trip. Since I'm standing in her way, I might as well get this out and find out…

"Hey, I got a question for you," I say, making sure I'm standing right in front of the door. When her face quickly turns to an annoyed expression, I pull a wad of credits out of my pocket- the only credits I actually have in person. "Don't worry; I'll make it worth your time."

Even I know how the corporate-speak works.

The Czerka employee frowns. "You better make this quick. Czerka's getting the hell of this rock, and if I'm late…"

I shake my head. "I just need to know if you have an employee named Griff. Or had an employee named Griff. Twi'lek, blue guy, lazy…" I'm trying to ring any bells in that head of yours!

Apparently not, though, since the woman shakes her head quickly – too quickly. I push harder this time, miming putting the credits back in my pocket, an obvious message that my question wasn't answered. I can tell something's up, and it was the same way in KotOR. Spit it out.

"Wait, I do remember an employee we used to have named Griff," the Czerka official says quickly, hand outstretched to the take the credits I'm offering. "Terrible, never showed up on time, took naps during his shift. He's been captured by the Sand People for three weeks. We've had no choice but to leave him."

Fuck. "Thanks," I mutter, tossing almost all the money into her greedy fingers. Okay, looks like I've still got a hundred credits… Good thing Big Z and I had the sense to loot the corpses of the Sith back on Manaan. This is just great, though, about Griff. No Lena, and how the hell am I going to break this Mission? I frown, taking a sit by the bar. I wonder if they'd serve me alcohol, or whatever the equivalent is here.

"_What'll it be?"_ The Twi'lek bartender quickly descends on me, cleaning a glass in one hand, the other resting on the bar. Don't be too friendly mate, that never is the right way to sell anything…

"I don't know," I admit. "I've been out in the Dune Sea for the past few hours, you got anything for that?"

Across the bar, the alien smirks. "A pretty heavy version of juma juice ought to do the trick, guaranteed to knock you on your ass."

Oh, um. Maybe not then. "You've got anything that won't get me wasted?" I ask, biting my lip. "Besides, how old do I look to you?"

The Twi'lek just shrugs. "You've got money, I provide the drinks. This isn't Coruscant, I'm not out to save you from your own choices. But non-alcoholic… What do you think this is? I can get you water, but that's about it."

"No soda?" The bartender just looks confused, so no, then. Damn, it's been a month since I've had any caffeine. "Water would be great then."

I practically slump into my seat, nearly slamming my head against the metal bar. The adrenaline rush of combat has quickly worn off, and I'm feeling pretty damn tired – not to mention the pressure that Mission's been exerting on me… I'm starting to question if telling her the truth was the best option. Especially this part about Griff… I'll obviously have to figure something out, but… damn. I still have to keep the illusion of my past up around everyone else, but with her it's not good at all. Our relationship seems to have taken to the backburner, especially since I can tell she doesn't trust me anymore. Maybe I should've waited back on Kashyyyk. This whole thing is messing with me, and not in a good way.

I groan, realising that I'm in a bar, moping over my personal life. Maybe I should order something a bit stronger than water after all. Where'd that bartender run off to?

"Get away from me, you filthy alien!" A woman's voice cries from behind me, "You know who I am?"

What was I saying about racism in_ Star Wars?_ I take it all back.

"I suppose you wouldn't be interested in toning it down a notch," I spit, turning around to see an older woman's causing the disturbance, standing in the corner, wearing tan robes. Much like everyone else on this rock. I'm not in the mood for this at all… Wait…

"I take it _you_ don't know who I am either," she replies, voice sounding really familiar, even though it's just a bit slurred. "Let me tell you something; I'm Helena Shan, and -."

"_Human, Helena must be your word for a pit Rancor,"_ the Duros in question snorts, walking past my chair. _"She acts like she owns the place, you might as well get out now."_

Shan? Bastila's mother! Doctor Chakwas' voice? Yeah, I know her. I put my head back down, right as the bartender pushes my water forward. In an instant, I drain the whole glass. The water's hot, grainy, but I don't care. It's wonderful.

"You don't even have the respect to look me in the eyes?" Helena taunts, and I try my best to ignore her. The last thing I need to do is punch Bastila's mum. Though if she doesn't like her mum, maybe that'd help get me on her good side.

No, that's just too much effort to go over and actually do it. Screw that, this chair is comfortable, bitch.

"Mother," Bastila's voice whispers from the doorway. Oh, you picked a good time to show up, Princess. The Jedi turns her attention to me. "What have you done…? Are you drinking already_?_"

I sit up, turning to face her. "No, this here's water," I scoff. "It's quite intoxicating, you know. And just for the record, I haven't done anything." You're really starting to piss me off, Jedi. I can see why some people weren't found of you in the game. You're even worse right now.

"Hello mother," the Jedi says quietly, walking past me and T3.

"I'm glad to see my daughter keeps such lovely company," Helena sneers, right as Bastila's closer. I figure this isn't going to go well at all, especially since Darius isn't here, and he and Bastila seem to have gotten quite close. This conversation isn't going to well, especially without him – emotional support, I guess. Not my job. "I didn't recognise you, especially since you haven't given me anything, not even a picture since you've left all those years ago."

"You knew that communication would be impossible when I joined the Order," Bastila retorts coldly, "If there's nothing else, me and my companions should be leaving."

You've got to wonder why anyone would give their kids up the Jedi, actually. They end up getting killed quite often, and you never see them again. And romance is forbidden… This sounds like a cult, to be honest. I might as well try and fix this mess, though. I might not be Bastila's biggest fan, but even I'm not going to sit back while she ruins the one chance to re-connect with her mother. I finish the rest of my water, and slap a few credits on the bar. Okay, I'm up… I walk to Bastila's side, feeling really damn awkward as I do so.

"Listen to her," Helena frowns, addressing me, "Tell me, do you treat your mother this way, or is Bastila the only one without a heart? Do you even see her, or did you do the same as my daughter?"

Oh, my mother… I grind my teeth together… Bad subject. Not because we left on bad terms, that's not the case with anyone in family, not my mother, father or brother. I just wish that I could have said goodbye. Hell, I don't even know what my last words to any of them were. I'm not saying I'd kill to go back, but it'd sure be nice to get that all sorted before being thrust across space and time.

"I don't know what happened to my mum," I carefully admit, keeping my voice level.

"I see… Well, Bastila, I take it you've come to mock me just as I'm dying."

Bastila double takes, quickly glancing my direction for a second. "You're not dying. Where's father, and what do you really want?"

"You haven't heard…?" Helena asks, her rather arrogant attitude seeping away rapidly. "Your father is dead, Bastila. Killed by a Krayt Dragon on one of his hunting expeditions."

I wait a moment for Bastila to absorb the news. I already knew, of course, but at least I don't have to feign surprise. Given that I really have never met Helena, or have had much emotional investment with Bastila, it's only natural for me to show some apathy.

"You're sure you aren't responsible for this?" Bastila accuses, but her mother only shakes her head. ""Father was an experienced hunter; he might have survived, maybe escaped into the Dune Seas…"

Bastila's mum sighs dejectedly, "You think I wouldn't tell you if I wasn't sure? But that's beside the point. Your farther had a holocron, Bastila… He kept everything on it. You could use your Jedi senses to find it, bring it back from the Dune Sea."

Ah, a fetch quest. Too many of those already, if you ask me.

"Why don't you just get it yourself?" Bastila deadpans.

Helena snorts. "A dying woman, scouring the desert? That's a great plan. It wouldn't be hard for you and your friend here to find it. It's too much for me to ask, is it?"

Hey, let's get something important set in stone here. "We're not friends," I say, frowning. I'm sure not in the mood to put up with Bastila, and on her end she's probably feeling the same way. One thing leads to another, and here we are: both pretty pissed off at the other. Should've shaken my hand back on Taris….

"You drove father into treasure hunting, to his death. Why would you even want the holocron?" Bastila asks, ignoring my quip. I notice that she also didn't note that her own mother is dying. Talk about tension and some bad blood between this two.

The older woman gives up, turning back to her drink. I look at Bastila, expecting a harsh 'let's go!' command, but instead I see an upset young woman – not a Jedi, hell it seems like she's close to shedding a tear. I'm sure years of Jedi training is holding that back, but… It just hit me. This really can't be easy – being separated practically from birth, and when you finally meet your mum again, she's a bitch in a bar. Top that off with the fact that she's going to die? Yikes.

"You want to get out of here?" I quietly ask, using one hand to gesture to T3. Time to leave, that's for sure. The droid rolls out… Autobots, roll out!

Not twenty seconds after we left the cantina, Darius managed to page us, quickly letting us know that we were tasked with meeting his and Jolee's group in the local droid shop. So we're getting off the right start. Bastila hasn't said more than two words to me since we left the cantina, and we're just now entering the droid shop. I haven't seen either of the other teams, so we must be here first.

I step inside the droid shop, disappointed that there's no air conditioning to be found. I mean, don't droids need to be cooled as well? Following Bastila and T3 indoors, my eyes quickly dart to an orange two meter tall droid standing in the corner. Oh, there's everyone's favourite assassin droid! At least he didn't go and pull a T3, showing up where he's not meant to. Nearby is a sole Ithorian, which still to this date remind me of squashed frogs, tending to a little astromech droid, similar model as T3-M4. Just a bit older, given the rust and parts strewn all over the floor.

"_Greetings,"_ the Ithorian bumbles forward, rushing to meet the three of us. The alien's eyes dart down to our droid. _"Are you here to sell this? New model, barely used?"_

"Our droid is not for sale," Bastila corrects the Ithorian.

The Ithorian is pretty quick to adjust his tactics. _"You're here to purchase another droid? Don't have as many as I normally do – just a pair of astromech droids and one protocol droid. Get any equipment with one, and I'll drop five per cent off the total cost."_

"We're meeting the rest of our party here," I explain quickly, growing tired of the shopkeeper's attempts to sell us crap. "We might be getting something when everyone else is here, don't worry."

Yuka Laka, I remember the Ithorian's name now, takes a few moments to think that one over. He better not be kicking us out or anything… He silently sulks back to his work, apparently content to let us wait indoors. At least we're not directly in the sun. Bastila stands off to the side, hands behind her back, waiting… I'm a bit too impatient for that, so let's see what Yuka Laka's got here…

I walk past a shelf full of droid parts, and I realise that I don't have a clue what any of these do or what they'd be used for. This one here looks like an eye or something. I pick it up, looking it over in my hands. Doesn't seem that different from a computer part, in the end. But for better or worse our computers never had intelligence. Sure had plenty of movies about that, though.

"Suggestion: Yuka Laka lacks courage to stand up to a strong willed meatbag. He would likely lower my selling price with a few veiled threats."

I drop the robot eye back on the shelf, walking away as it makes a loud clank. Probably should've slowly put it down, but … fuck it. I face the assassin droid, looking right into its cold, unblinking red eyes. Like everyone else, HK-47 seems to be similar to his in game avatar, just here in the flesh. Or rather, in the metal.

"I didn't say we were going to purchase you," I reply, trying my best to not have a geek-out here. On one hand, HK could kill a hundred people faster than I could count to a hundred – but… HK! Who doesn't love him?

"Observation: This unit is the only worthwhile purchase in this desolate wasteland, prospective buyer. My skills are far more versatile and could serve one as yourself far better than an astromech droid," HK argues, a surprising amount of inflection in his synthesized voice. Thank goodness that he doesn't just whistle and beep like our other robot.

Speaking of which, T3's nearby throwing a fit in his own speech. Um, okay.

HK's head goes back and forth on its robotic neck. "Statement: That is simply not true, my minuscule, irritating companion! I am simply being neglected here at the hands of an unskilled mechanic, and I would be much better suited as a translation droid – or in personal combat."

I open my mouth to try and get an awesome HK-47 line, but behind Bastila and I the door opens, which means that unless someone out in this desert pit wants to buy a droid, then the rest of the _Ebon Hawk_ crew's here. At the very least, one of the teams. I turn my back to orange droid, just as Darius and the crew enter the shop. I chuckle when Zaalbar nearly slams his head into the doorway. Before I met him, I thought it would be epic to be that tall. Now, I'm happy being six foot. I'm still taller than your average human, but in a universe as diverse as _Star Wars_ – there's Jawas and all sorts of aliens to give some more height variety.

Yuka Laka bolts up, only to slump back down when he sees our group all together. Probably hoping for some more excited customers, I'd bet. Well, with any luck, we'll be getting a hold of that HK droid soon enough.

"Not a wide selection," I hear Darius mutter to the others, as he walks towards HK and I. "We're in trouble if this one doesn't speak the language of the Tusken Raiders. We aren't getting anywhere in the Dune Sea as is."

Damn, everyone looks like a sight for sore eyes – we're all suffering the effects of combing the desert for hours. I take a step back from HK and Darius, taking my usual place near Mission and Zaalbar. Neither one of them says anything … so I'll just stand here then. Let Darius figure this one out.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, and we all walk out the droid shop – including HK-47. For such an advanced killing machine, he makes a lot of noise when he's walking. I'm not sure how, or even if he will, interact with the rest of us, but it's all up in the air right now.

"Query: Shall we kill something now, master?" HK asks, the moment we leave the confines of the building. Way to be subtle, there.

"Kill something?" Darius raises an eyebrow, "I did purchase you to _avoid_ killing all the Sand People in the Dune Sea, keep in mind." Well, that was probably the worst thing you could say to him, there. Might as well tell him that he's completely useless.

"Statement: While that is the case, master," the assassin droid argues, "I'm certain that there are quite a few meatbags that require extermination. I am quite eager to engage in some unadulterated violence."

"Don't worry too much there, trouble seems to follow us on a regular basis," I say, sighing. More than I'd like, that's for sure. But for this droid, my idea of too much trouble isn't going to cut it.

"I take it we can't return the droid should it become more unstable," Bastila questions, biting her lip. Oh, don't be too much of a prude.

I'll let them figure that one out. I'm having a crisis of my own, more so on how I'm going to break the news of Griff to Mission, especially since expositional NPC's did not arrive to weasel me out of that one. Damn, that would have been nicer than actually being the one to bring it up, especially since I only half explained the whole thing on Manaan. I don't really know how to get this ball rolling at all.

"So…" I start, keeping my voice quiet enough so everyone else doesn't jump on our conversation. They're too busy talking to HK, by the sound of things. "I ran into a Czerka employee before we met up…"

"This is about Griff," Mission states, apparently capable of reading my mind like an open book. "Right?" She sounds a little hostile, much to my surprise. I thought back on Manaan she took this pretty well. While that was two days ago, no reason to get worse over it, I'd think.

"Well, if you're surprised, apparently he was late for work, took naps, lazy… that sort of thing. But they're saying he was captured by the Sand People a few weeks ago – and they've made no effort to get him out of there."

Mission scowls. "I'm not surprised, and I'm sure you're not either. You already knew about the Sand People, didn't you?"

Stop reading my brains!

"Well, I… erm…" I stammer quickly, biting my tongue. "I didn't want to say anything in case it turns out he's not here, or maybe he hadn't been captured yet. I don't know!"

Zaalbar turns to look at Mission and I. I smile innocently, hoping that I wasn't too loud there. Well, maybe. Keep it cool, and that's something out here in the desert. I realise now that we've been walking quite a distance, and I was too caught up in my own business to notice. We're just outside Anchorhead now, the only sights in front of us are sand and the twin suns in the sky. Water is shimmering in the distance, and it's making me thirsty – no wait, that's just a fucking mirage.

These pretzels are making me thirsty!

"If you're going to tell me my brother, that I haven't seen in years is on Tatooine, you should've added everything you know," Mission says. "I didn't ask you to use your… knowledge to play things the way the _think_ they should."

"I thought it would be better that you know," I whisper in defeat, my shoulders sinking quickly. "But what if Griff wasn't captured? Then I've gotten you worried over nothing, right?"

My arguments don't seem to be working. "I'm not a character that you can just mess with like that! If that's the case, why don't you just speed this whole thing up and tell them where this one is?"

I notice that's she at least refrained from saying 'Star Map' in front of the others, but we're just a few feet behind the rest of the group – so I think with all the wind out here nobody can hear us. Thinking is the operative word there, though. I can't believe we're getting into this, though. I mean, I spent the whole Kashyyyk mission wrestling with my own thoughts about Mission. Feelings for someone like that were pretty foreign to me then, and it sure gets confusing if it's a fictional – or so I thought, woman.

"That's right, you're afraid they're going to dissect you, right?" Mission continues, taunting me. I'd hate to say so, but that's true.

"You know that's not a pretty justified concern," I defend myself quickly, thinking back to Davik and Taris. Let's not repeat that, especially given how Mission found out as well… "Do you really think the Jedi, or the Sith, would just let me run around with that knowledge lodged in my head?"

"I just don't see where it gives you the right to tamper with our lives in the manner that you please. When it's convenient for you, right?"

Erm, what does she even want me to say? I'm busy thinking this one over, feet automatically moving to follow everyone else… Let's see – I'm stupid, I could just admit that. Talk about a bad situation, though. Even if I admit I'm a pillock, doesn't really change facts. I'm hoping Taris doesn't come back into this conversation. Thankfully though, seems like Mission's letting off for now, catching up with Zaalbar and leaving me to think over her words. Time to start generating excuses.

Well, we're all out here for the second time… and it looks just as barren, empty and disgusting as before. We're all together now, which might explain why we haven't been attacked –yet. I'm sure it will only be a matter of time. Especially since Bastila and I were out there for almost an hour before they attacked in force. I'm no expert, but I'm sure they were figuring out when the best time would be to kill us.

Where Mission used to be nearby, I look to see HK-47 instead – holding a sleek assault rifle in his hands. Damn, what a badass.

"HK," I simply say, nodding. Let's not get off to a bad start with the assassin droid, right Stephen? Just someone else to piss off and turn against you. Influence lost, everyone! "Hanging out with the cool guys back here?"

"Correction: My master ordered me to cover this area. My photoreceptors are capable of much greater observation than your meatbag organs, and I am capable of firing my own arsenal at far greater ranges. "

"Everyone's a critic," I sigh. There's no arguing with HK-47, I guess… I'm still not over the Sand People attack earlier today, so I don't care if HK has better sight; I'm keeping my eyes out… Might be there, just at the bottom of this sand hill… No, that's a human woman. Not Bastila, so…

"Who's that?" I ask HK, double taking when the mysterious lady flickers once, then evaporates in a second.

"Answer: You will have to be more specific. While my optical sensors can be played back at a later time, the only meatbags within a half-kilometre are the same tortured individuals that my master has forced me to accompany."

"Great, I'm seeing things…"

"Statement: Do not worry, meatbag. I am programmed to perform all kinds of psychiatric assistance? Do you require some?"

As funny as it was the game… "Could you lay off the meatbag references for just a bit?"

"Observation: It's just… you're so full of water. Would you perhaps prefer the term 'liquidous fleshbag?'"

God damnit, this day is really biting my ass.

An all too familiar howling echoes across the empty Dune Sea, the Tusken Raiders are back. Let's do this again.

* * *

Well, we all went from a small army of misfits, aliens and Jedi to a bunch of masquerading Sand People. Our battle with the Tuskens went considerably better with all of us, rather than teams of three. HK-47 though, having never really fought with the rest of us – he's a beast. While not able to bat back blaster bolts or cut the heads off of people, seeing him take out a running opponent a few yards away with deadly precision is really impressive. The killer, literally, was when an attacker was burnt to death – apparently an assassin droid needs to have a built in flamethrower component. I'm not sure I'm comfortable standing anywhere near that, but if it gets us through all of this.

There were, disturbingly enough, enough Sand People corpses that weren't burned or mutilated to the point where we could no longer use their clothing as part of our plan to infiltrate the Sand People Enclave.

"_We just need to put on a few of the outer layers," Darius explained, "It'll be heavy, but we should be able to pass as Sand People from a distance. At least, the whole point is we follow a group back to their home – and we get in, use HK to talk to some of them there."_

I frown, turning over one of the bodies in front of me. Looks to be the right size there, just about six foot, three inches tall. Since I'm six foot exactly, might be a bit big – but that's as close as I'm going to get. I found a perfectly sized outfit, but it was burned and tattered thanks to HK's previous stunts. Okay, unwrap the body… I'm making quite a point to not look at the actual corpse – I haven't recovered from Manaan. They do say it's easier to see bodies on a regular basis, but honestly – let's just do without _any._

"_Zaalbar's not going to fit in these," Mission had pointed out, frowning after seeing that the largest Sand People robe was nowhere near close enough. "We're going to have to pass him off as our prisoner."_

Oh, the Wookiee didn't like that at all. Really reminded me of _Star Wars_, but Zaalbar agreed nonetheless. Surprisingly, Bastila didn't throw a fit about getting in the disguises we needed. As nasty as she could be, I'll give her one thing… she's professional. More than I can say, sometimes.

"_Objection: Why, master, I would have to state that our best option would be to simply murder every single meatbag that is in our way. Just a bit of wanton slaughter." HK-47 had argued passionately. _

"_Yeah, let's just kill everything," I deadpanned._

"_Agreement: You are intelligent, for a meatbag."_

I had thought HK-47 to be able to detect the obvious sarcasm, but right now, I'm just thinking that it was desperately hoping for someone to agree with him. Even Canderous wouldn't, saying that there's a difference between slaughter and battle. Dark side types. Chaotic evil vs. lawful evil? I'm not an expert about that though.

Alright, everything is in place except for the mask. I'm not looking forward to this… I place it over my face, surprised to find a simple digital display on one eye, the other is just a tinted eyepiece over my left eye. Not bad, but my hair's getting messed up already under this. I guess what this means is that no more sunburn, but I'm practically burning up. Sweat… everywhere.

My blaster is clipped onto my holster, underneath the extra two layers I'm now sporting. The Sand People use some specific weapons, including a two meter unusual metal pole, called a gaffi stick. From the fallen warrior, body exposed to the elements in front of me, I grab this individual's weapon. From what I was once told, each of these were individual to the man that made them. This means I'm stealing a unique weapon...

No, no, don't think about that.

"How do I look?" I ask, surprised how my own voice sounds through the mask and breathing filter, a nice little addition to filter sand particles out of the air.

One of my companions next to me fixes part of my new robes, tinkering with some fabric just over my forehead. "Terrible," Mission's voice answers, but regardless of our fight, she seems relatively amused. My stomach flutters for a moment when I hear her voice, which only furthers my previous opinions: I'm a damn idiot. Things seemed much less complicated before my secret was out.

Personal crap aside, I nod my thanks to the now disguised Twi'lek. Somehow, she's managed to get those head tails of hers, _lekku_ if I'm not mistaken, all hidden as well. Unflattering, but all of us make a mean bunch of Tusken Raiders.

Your next sport's team, the … Tusken Raiders!

"Darius, I'd have to hate on, but…" Mission says, "Stephen and I found that my brother, Griff, might be in there. He might even be alive."

"We'll keep an eye out," the Jedi replies, "You know I can't guarantee anything. Make no mistake, we don't know what we're going into here."

For once, I'm glad Mission's eyes are hidden – I know she's not happy about that whole ordeal.

Gaffi stick, check. Sand People disguise, check. Everyone else seems to be checking their gear –but we're as good as this is going to get. The part we've all realised, myself included, is that we have to walk in, appearing as if T3, HK, and Zaalbar are all our prisoners – without saying a word, since none of us can speak the language of the Tuskens. Sure, HK-47 can, but then we can't just walk and _then_ talk to them. We'd be shot and gutted first.

Let's trek into the desert, then. Griff or not, there's plenty we have to do out here. The sun's starting to set, maybe it won't be so hot out here. Sand People, here we come.


	18. Chapter 18: Multiple Guess

Chapter 18: Multiple Guess

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away"

~Maya Angelou

**Author's Notes: Mission's brother, Tusken Raiders, and Bastila? Those would be your usual Tatooine fetch quests. Another day in _Displacement in the Old Republic_. Shall we get on with it?**

**By the way, an increasing number of people have been asking me if this will continue into KotOR 2. The answer, for everyone I haven't told over private messaging in reply to your review is… Yes. It will. I was uncertain about this for a while, but I finally made up my mind. That being said - that won't be until after this is done, obviously. Don't get too excited.**

* * *

I put the electronic binoculars back down, adjusting to my half-tinted, half LED display vision given to me thanks to my Sand People disguise. Over the past two hours, I've gotten used to it, but looking through those binoculars was quite odd – adding a new layer, a green tinted digital display, showing me an alarming close up of the Sand People's enclave. That being said, the turrets in front of the main entrance look pretty mean, and there are quite a few animals running around out in the sand. There are the furry Banthas I remember from the original _Star Wars_ films, as well as Dewbacks, which remind me of huge lizards with long tails.

"Twenty of them," I frown, having counted the number of turrets a dozen times. "Here, take a look."

I pass the device over the Jolee, my assigned partner on this recon mission. Given that we didn't know a single thing about what we were walking into – and unlike Manaan, we don't have any intelligence to speak of. So we broke into teams of two this time, and I've been paired with Jolee to check out the main entrance from a particularly high dune. So here we are, dressed in the garb of our enemies, lying face down in the dirt. At least since we're wearing tan clothing, we sort of blend in. The only plus here is that our outfits prohibit sand from getting in my face, unlike my previous experiences out here.

"So basically if they figure out who we are, we get killed in an instant," I mutter, uncertain if the voice filter picked up what I was just saying. Screw it if it doesn't. I hate repeating myself.

"We're resting all of our lives in the hands of our new droid," Jolee admits, peering down the electro binoculars. Weren't there those kinds of binoculars in that awful _The Phantom Menace_ game? And you had to sell them for tickets… Even worse, why do I even remember this, especially now? "Especially one with a temperament for extreme violence."

Jolee hands the device back to me. "At least we could talk to the Wookiees," I point out. "This time the locales are a bit more savage. And willing to gut us in an instant."

"For all their faults, the Wookiees weren't that bad," the old Jedi retorts. "There wasn't even much of a problem with off-worlders until Czerka showed up. Seems that company is effective at ruining local culture faster than dropping corpses full of the flu."

I snort, thinking back to the whole mess back on that jungle planet. "You know, with your powers, couldn't you have stopped them? Driven Czerka's thugs off the planet?"

"I did, for a while. Seemed to be a moot point when the Chieftain was willing to work with Czerka's slavers. Besides, boy, I'm not a Jedi anymore. Even if I was, they aren't the fabled guardians of peace saving everyone from all their problems. If they helped everyone, nobody would be able to fend for themselves."

I raise an eyebrow, an expression lost under my Sand People garb. "It's nice to have someone critical of the Jedi around here. Bastila's preaching gets pretty old after a while."

"She's just following what she's been taught all her life," Jolee says, "Light and dark side don't mean the same to you and me as it does to her."

"Does being part of the light side mean that you have to shove a stick up your ass?" I ask, chuckling. "It's not like half the Jedi don't have that attitude going on."

The two of us share a brief bout of laughter, a really nice thing when we're getting ready to do something this dangerous. I've always been found of Jolee Bindo in the games, despite his "old man" attitude, but talking to him one and one is something totally different. Takes me by surprise every time, really.

"Darius doesn't seem too bad, though," I finish, glad that our leader hasn't turned into another version of Bastila. Still, it might be better if he were, I wouldn't be worried about him going Sith style and chopping us all up. "All things considered, that is."

If memory serves, and I'm sure it does, Jolee knows who Darius really is. And while Darius himself, if things turn out just like the game, is going to learn pretty soon… Assuming I don't change something. Bastila might have me killed for that, I suspect. That's all in the future, at any rate. Let future Stephen fix that problem.

Jolee doesn't say anything to that, maybe for the same reason I was just referencing. Now that I'm thinking about it, I realise that Jolee and I both know the revelation that's coming up really soon. Sure, I know quite a few more secrets than he does – but never once has he said anything about his own knowledge. So why have I been beating myself up over this for the past month? This guy's already got my whole issue figured out, and has since we picked him up on Kashyyyk. I'd hate to say it, but this kind of casts Jolee in a whole new light. Huh.

"Can I ask you a question?" I take a final look at the Sand People base, still taken aback by their defences. If they hate our technology, why are they using it? I mean, sure it's useful, but… I do find it amusing how the two kinds of animals look in this new mode of vision.

"As long as it doesn't involve me telling you a story, and have you miss the entire point of the damn thing."

"Fair enough," I reply, once more putting the binoculars back down. Let's see… how am I going to say this? "I've got the feeling that you know a bit more about certain… things than you're letting on." Like the fact we're travelling with the amnesiac Sith Lord? That means that Bastila, Jolee _and _I know what's really up. Secrets, secrets. But we aren't actually in on the whole mind wipe thing.

"And I would say the same about you!" Jolee barks quickly. "In fact, one would say that we've all got things we'd rather not share with one another."

"Not like that," I sigh. Oh, old man don't make me pull teeth. "Specifically about the mission and the crew. Let's say, hypothetically, you knew some information that would change quite a few things on our little search for the Star Forge."

"Hypothetically?" Jolee repeats. Oh, crap. Please tell me I didn't mess this up already. "In that case, it might not be your place to say anything. Just like the Jedi, just because we're in a certain position or know things others don't… Doesn't make us gods to other people, manipulating things as we see fit."

"Wouldn't that depend on what exactly you know?" I ask, fairly certain he's referring to Revan.

"Or how you know it, perhaps." Jolee answers. "If this is just a hypothetical question, the best answer would be that you can make up your own damn mind based off what _you_ know."

Well, that doesn't help me a whole lot… Makes me _feel_ a bit better, though. I guess that's what Jolee did himself when he figured out Darius was Revan, but… I'm still not sure. What am I going to tell everyone, and how much information should I say? How about I include the fact that almost all the Jedi are going to be wiped out over the span of the next five years? I hadn't really thought about that… A little important, really.

"Does this have to do with that young Twi'lek friend of yours?" the old man asks, covered head turning to face me.

"Well, no… But, sort of… Maybe," I stammer. Damn you, Jolee! For just a second there, I was positive he was going to ask me straight up if I knew who Darius was. But as much as I'd like to avoid the topic of Mission and I, it always seems to come up anyways. "It's sort of complicated," I finish, my head slumping forward.

"Bah. You still want advice from an old broken ex-Jedi? Figure it out, before you lose her."

Hey! That's not exactly something I'd like to think about. "I'm trying to get it all worked out," I hiss. "I wouldn't have pegged you as a relationship guru, mate."

The disguised ex-Jedi shrugs. "Doesn't take one to see that you two are happy together – despite whatever's got you two fighting and acting like a bunch of immature children."

"I'm not a child!" I argue, before realising I really ought to keep my voice down. Look right, look left… Okay, no Tusken Raiders seem to be alerted to my sudden outburst. That would have been a fun one to explain.

"Darius Rayner to recon team alpha," our leader's voice comes through the comlink I've stashed underneath this robes. Barely audible, maybe I should have fixed that so I can actually use my communicator…

"Recon team alpha, Stephen here," I pipe up, pressing a finger onto the device on my wrist. "I take it it's time for us to head back and report?"

"That's right, Private," Darius commands, "We're just behind your team, recon bravo's already back with us."

I turn to my partner. "Let's mess with the old man's head, right?" Jolee mutters, and I honestly can't tell if he's a little annoyed or just pulling my leg. So that's the usual old guy I remember, video game or reality, doesn't matter. I tuck the electro-binoculars back into one of the expansive pouches on my robes. Got those, wouldn't want to misplace that. I grab my ceremonial Tusken Raider weapon, the gaffi stick. I wonder who really made that, if each is unique –who's the bloke I killed?

I push those thoughts out of my mind, crawling backwards and stepping back onto my feet, wiping sand from my front. I toss a glance behind me, checking to make sure that I still haven't been seen. My first recon mission seems to be a success, never mind the fact that I was disguised as one of the enemy and hiding behind a large amount of sand. That's not really the important part.

I see a suspicious group of Tuskens in front of Jolee and I, including a Wookiee, and two droids. That's our little gang, then, I take it. I wave a hello with my hand that isn't holding a weapon – wouldn't want to be shot or stabbed by a lightsaber. The latter might be kind of cool in a nerdy way, but I'm not really in the mood.

"Sit-rep," the lead man says with Darius' voice. I remember back to my basic lessons on Dantooine… Sit-rep means situation report, right?

"We're going to have to put up quite a show," I say, since we can't pass the droids or Zaalbar off as Tusken Raiders like the rest of us are doing. "They've got about twenty or so turrets, a ton of furry beasts. And there's probably about a hundred or more of them."

"And their turrets are all up front?" Darius asks.

"Yes, but if we're posing as one of them…" Jolee answers, voice trailing off. As an unspoken point, I'm pretty sure we all get it. If we even try to sneak around…. Our cover is going to be blown in an instant.

"You know what another problem is?" Canderous says, and I'll be sure to remember which one he is under all that crap. "I don't know about you Jedi, but none of us but the droid can speak their language. So we're just going to be a band of mute Sand People."

"Once we get in, we're going to have to tell them the truth," Bastila explains, the one closest to Darius. Interesting… "They might be able to identify us up close, and if we greet them with peace rather than hostility…"

"Suggestion: Master, this meatbag has the wrong idea. If you would allow me to simply murder every single one of the primitive meatbags, perhaps from their corpses we can gather further information about locating your Star Map." HK-47 deadpans in his near-emotionless voice.

"No," Darius retorts. "We don't know anything about them. For all we know, their information about the Dune Sea might not be written down. You have to remember that they just now met civilised races. If we can go in murdering everything…"

I can tell that last comment was a blow to HK, get the new guy in line. Please don't reprogram him, that might be the absolute worst thing you could do to solve this issue. At the worst, all his humour would evaporate!

"Master, I am no expert, but it is obvious to me that you have serious psychological issues that require attention."

"Stow it, HK," Darius closes the line of conversation, and addresses all of us. "Let's get going. Remember, droids up front, along with Zaalbar. We can't mess this up. The turrets will kill us all from range before HK can say a single word."

I stay quiet as we mobilise in formation, and I take a spot in the back, near Canderous and either Carth or Mission. I'd have to say Carth, though. Pretty big fuck up if I mix them up, so let's adopt a wait and see policy…

"I take it he's adopted the Jedi philosophies a little too well," the Mandalorian growls, and I got to say, he makes quite a large Tusken Raider. "I thought you said he was a soldier back on Taris."

"He was," I answer quickly. "I guess now he's a Jedi. Could be worse. He's not going overboard on the pacifism… He makes sense, more or less."

"As one of the _Mando'a_, I'm not stupid enough to think violence is always the answer, but this…?"

I don't look at Canderous, instead rapidly checking the desert. No attacking Tusken Raiders, so we're getting there. Still about a hundred feet away from the turrets and the death trap that makes up the entrance, though. Right now, those guns are looking small, but deadly. Seeing them from a distance, it's okay… Now, I'm paranoid we're all going to be gunned down in less than five seconds.

"I got a hunch this'll work. Trust me on it. Besides – they might have hostages in there," I point out, my thoughts coming back to Mission and Griff. That slime-ball better be in there, especially all this trouble it's already caused me.

"A hunch?" Carth says, surprised. "Are you sure you aren't just saying that because Mission's brother might captive? Assuming they keep them alive."

Ugh, this is getting on my nerves. I tap my fingers against my gaffi stick rapidly, enjoying the sound of the metal clicking against my gloved hand. Let's see here. The fact that everyone seems to be ganging up on me about this is really damn irritating. I mean, we've all gotten sort of closer since Taris, but damn it…

"That might be a reason," I admit. "But I'm really surprised that you two are agreeing!" That never, ever happened in the game. I'm utterly shocked.

"I wouldn't go that far," the Republic soldier says, "I'm just of the opinion that this is far too risky. Even if we have to fight them off in the Dune Sea, walking straight into their territory is something else entirely."

"We're not walking right in," I argue, and pause for some dramatic effect. "…We _are_ disguised."

Canderous shakes his head next to me. "And we still don't know anything about these Sand People. They could be luring us into a trap. We wouldn't know."

I groan loudly. I've got the Republic soldier _and _the Mandalorian against me? Bad odds today, really. And the heat is just making me even more cross. I hate this god damned planet.

"Shut up back there," Darius says over the communicator. "We're almost there, and if you lot keep this up, we really are going to be screwed."

Oh, goodness… we're all going to die, aren't we? Just a few feet from the turrets and a single guard. I see Darius give Big Z a passionate shove, and nobody starts shooting… The droids are seemingly disarmed, but I'm sure HK and T3 both have a few tricks up their sleeves just in case something goes wrong. During our planning session earlier, I asked the stupid question if we needed to cover Zaalbar if something went wrong. Given how massive the Wookiee is, and some testimonies from Mission, the general ideas is that he'll rip the arms off of any Sand People nearby.

The wooden door, flanked by machines, opens in front of us – revealing the interior of the Tusken's home. Wow… I'm a little surprised that worked! I avert my gaze from the sole guard, who is watching us all intently. I wonder if he knows something's up. Regardless, I pass through last, along with Canderous.

Right away, I notice a really foul stench, and the source is quite obvious. Two of the Banthas are sleeping inside, right in front of the door. And damn, they are not pleasant – especially when there is not any wind to help divert the smell. A few Tusken Raiders seem to be tending to them, though two more are right next to our group. I look around, seeing dozens more. Well, this better not go badly. I'm not sure how well my new combat "abilities" are going to fare with this many opponents.

The nearest Tusken Raider shouts something, seemingly at the top of his lungs, right at us. Okay, don't panic, Stephen… Looks like the other Sand People are getting ready as well… Oh, dear…

"Interjection: One moment, master. I am not sure if this Tusken Raider intended to, but he did just communicate something," HK-47 speaks up ahead of me, head swivelling to face Darius and Bastila."

"Tell him we're not a threat. Quickly!" the Jedi shouts, ignoring the fact that we're dangerously close to being surrounded.

"Translation…" the assassin droid starts to say in our own language. The following sentence, though, is most certainly not in English, or anything from Earth. To me, it sounds like a tortured scream mixed in with a howling animal. To make matters even better, though, the Tusken responds in kind, sounding just as terrible to my ears.

"Is this seriously how we're going to talk to them?" I whisper to Canderous, scowling underneath my now useless disguise. I really hope they don't find the fact I'm holding a gaffi stick offensive. They were really easy to piss off in the game…

"Translation: He does not believe you, master. However, his own protocol demands that we be brought before his Chieftain, and that our word shall be judged by their leader."

"Great," Darius responds, not sounding that happy about it. "Tell him to lead the way, if he could."

HK pauses for a moment. "Statement: Master, there is one small problem. Their leader is likely to not react well to the use of their clothing. If I may make a suggestion: you meatbags should remove your robes first."

I hear a dejected sigh from Darius, who reaches behind his head to start unravelling the Sand People robes that we all plucked from the dead not two hours ago. The rest of the crew quickly does likewise, including myself. In a matter of moments, I've shed the headgear, my vision returning to normal. I carefully set everything on the dusty floor, including the gaffi stick that I acquired earlier. Unlike putting on the disguises, taking them off takes very little time – meaning that all of us were standing in our usual outfits. Except Zaalbar, of course. I spare quick glance at Mission, smiling for a moment. When she doesn't return the gesture, I can't help but think back to what Jolee told me. Damn it.

"Take us to your leader," Darius says, voice calm and collected. Diplomatic voice, I suppose. I chuckle at the choice of words, then quickly stop when no one else does so. My jokes are lost on you lot!

We follow our guide in silence, walking through winding hallways and rooms – Sand People giving us nasty looks. Or what I presume are nasty looks – they're staring at us through the masks and helmets that every single one is wearing. Including the children, oddly enough. Eventually, though, we find ourselves in a larger room than the others – where a single Tusken Raider, with darker colouration, stands in the middle. Across the back wall are parts of deceased animals, even what looks like humans… They look like trophies. If there was any doubt that who we're about to meet is their leader, it's gone.

The being in front of us howls and roars, and even the second time – it's awful. I'm kind of curious if that's ripping a new hole right through his throat. That being said, HK translating Darius' words into the language of the Sand People sounds even worse, if that's even possible.

"Translation: This is their leader, master. The meatbag wishes to know if we are sincere about desiring peace. I should take note, however, that this would be an excellent time for an ambush, master."

The Jedi padawan steps forward from our circle. "Of course. We aren't here to kill you or rip the planet apart. We're looking for a remnant of an ancient and forgotten race. It's called a Star Map. We think it might be sheltered inside a cave in the Dune Sea."

The droid translates Darius' words a few seconds later. There's something about the inheriant terribleness of that language as well HK's own synthesized voice… I'm going to have nightmares about this, either that or I'm never getting sleep. I wanted to rip my own ears out whenever I heard chalk against a chalkboard. This is that… times a thousand. Fuck's sake.

The Chieftain remains emotionless, not making any sudden moves. Once he's done speaking, HK does his job. "Translation: Well, master. I am not sure that he believes you, but the meatbag does seem to know what you are talking about. However, he requires a proof of good faith before he is willing to share anything of value."

Right when HK finishes, I can hear an audible sigh from Darius. "We'd appreciate anything he can give us – in return I want their attacks against us and Anchorhead to stop. Today."

"Is that wise?" Bastila frowns. "They've nearly driven Czerka off the planet , and one would say with good reason. Suggesting that they cease all attacks might provoke them."

"HK?" Darius asks, ignoring his fellow Jedi's advice.

A few moments later, HK has an answer. "Translation: Master, it seems that your request can never be fulfilled – while they can back off and allow us passage through their territory, they claim that the citizens of Anchorhead are ignorant, and taunt the land with ignorant footsteps."

High opinion of outsiders, then.

"What about our proof of good faith?" Carth asks, breaking his own silence. I'm a little surprised that HK-47 just went ahead and translated that as well without a fuss. It sure wouldn't hurt to call Carth a meatbag, now would it? The droid sure had something to say in KotOR 2, and it would just be priceless for him to say something during our quest here. Even right now, for all I care.

After a painfully long statement, HK speaks up again. "Translation: They require very little from us, master. They claim that the Star Map is guarded by a Krayt Dragon, and while they revere the creature as sacred – it has killed dozens of their people as they have tried to move their Enclave further away from Anchorhead. By removing the Krayt Dragon, master, you will have proved yourself in their eyes as well as gained access to the Star Map."

Huh. So the state of Anchorhead means that they don't need us to get a moisture vaporator or something. Thank goodness, fetch quests make me rather cross. Didn't every single side quest in KotOR somehow turn into a "go get this and come back mission?" Maybe I'm just remembering this wrong. Someone should have told me to play the game a few more times _before_ getting over here. Or they ought to have chosen a reality that I wasn't familiar with, though this one has certainly given me plenty of twists.

"A Krayt Dragon?" Missions says, apparently unfamiliar with the native wildlife. I can't blame her, per say, but…

"Oh, it's big-."

I start to explain, but strangely enough, Bastila answers the question. "It's a massive creature, around forty five meters in length. Even the local hunters stay away from them – and only attack in large numbers… even then…"

Oh! Fuck, I'm an idiot. Her father was killed by one, and we are looking for his holocron. The game says that it's in the exact same cave as the Star Map, thanks to cosmic coincidence, but in reality, who really knows if that's where we're going to find it? Wait… Did I just call this reality? Oh, dear. I've been here too long.

"We did deal with a Rancor back on Taris," Darius says with confidence. Oh, you cocky Jedi…

"Yeah, and it nearly ate me. Not to mention, we didn't have to kill it," I growl, not so fondly thinking back to running away from the literal jaws of death. "This is a wee bit bigger."

"We don't have much choice," the Jedi replies, turning to face away from us and back towards the Chieftain. "HK, tell him we'll do it. But I've got a few questions to ask him, if that's alright."

A few painful seconds later, our assassin droid gives us our answer. "Translation: While he is able to answer your questions, master, he is clearly not in the mood for questions and answers. Suggestion: I would also like to point out that the Sand People are quite easy to provoke into physical violence."

Darius nods. "I'll keep that in mind…"

Ahead of me, I can see Mission shift uncomfortably. "Darius… prisoners?"

"Right. HK, ask about prisoners… Specifically a Twi'lek male. If you have to tell him that he looks like Mission, go for it. I don't care."

"Statement: As you desire, master," the rusty red droid comments, switching languages on a whim. No, not this again! When the Tusken Raider finishes listening, and replies in turn, HK-47 switches back to our own language. "Translation: Oh, master, he is well aware of the Twi'lek meatbag that you are referring to. He is saying that their prisoner is a particularly vile alien specimen. Their people do not even see the value in keeping him as a prisoner."

"Sounds like Griff," Mission snorts. "I take it they haven't killed him then?"

We all wait for a translation, answer and the interpretation of the answer we're looking for. "Translation: Negative. We are free to take the captive with us, though I find the idea of yet another meatbag in our group somewhat grotesque. He is being held only a few rooms away –and the Chieftain's warriors will permit us to enter there."

To my own surprise, Mission chuckles. "There's no way we're bringing him with us. But we do need to get him out of here."

"Tell him we're leaving now," Darius says to HK, effectively meaning that no longer will we all have to suffer listening to the Sand People's language. That's the important part, if anyone were to ask me. As usual, though, I don't think anyone is going to do that.

"Translation: We are free to leave, master."

I let out a breath I barely realised that I've been holding. That went surprisingly well, actually. Seems almost silly that I was freaking out earlier. As long as we don't piss them off on the way out – and I don't think anyone is that thick. Darius, Bastila and HK-47 lead the way out of the Chieftain's chambers. I practically run a bit to fall in line beside Mission, who's looking caught up in her own thoughts, and doesn't even notice me for a few moments.

"You alright?" I ask, trying my best to get on her good side for once. Anything to get things better, that's what I really want. "I know it's been a while since you've seen Griff…"

"I take it you know how this is going to go too?" Mission says, voice audible only to someone as close as I am right now. I ignore everything else around us, including being led around the Enclave to where we ought to find Griff.

I step to the side, only inches away from my companion. "Yeah, I know how it might end. But I'm in this just like you are. We make our own future, and I'm not just trying to get this to happen like they did back in that video game." What I was thinking earlier pops into my head: this is my new reality now. "Honestly, I've just been trying to do what I thought was right. I might not have done it right, but… I'm here, and I know this isn't a game."

Did I just make a profound statement? Holy crap!

Mission smiles nervously. "I shouldn't hold it against you, really… No matter how much you mess things up – I suppose you've been trying."

"Thanks," I whisper, "I guess… …"

"Doesn't mean I'm still not angry with you," Mission warns, her face turning serious. Hey, very funny, you.

"You two!" Darius barks, and I realise that we're standing in front of a wooden door – flanked by Tusken Raider guards. This must be it. My arm brushes across Mission's, and for whatever reason, I reach down and give her hand a quick squeeze. Not for a stupid romantic impulse …I think, but I can tell she needs at least some support out here. And she's not getting any from the Jedi or murderous assassin droids.

The panels in front of us slide up, thanks to an interesting little pulley system, revealing a tiny chamber. A single male Twi'lek is huddled inside, sitting on the sand, arms wrapped around his legs. He's clad in the uniform of Czerka, but it's tattered, worn and overall ruined. Looks like Griff's not having a good day. I can't help but wonder how long he's actually been here, or how he's been treated. Not well, obviously. Poor bloke.

"You there!" Mission's brother shouts, obviously trying to sound confident. "I'm a… high ranking Czerka executive. There's a handsome reward if you can get me back to Anchorhead!"

Well, you just totally lost my sympathy. Damn, his voice even sounds slimy, like a bad used car dealer.

"I see you haven't changed," Mission sighs. "You don't recognise me, then? It's Mission."

The older Twi'lek double takes. "Mission? Well… yeah, but, I mean… I wasn't expecting you! I heard Taris was destroyed, I thought you were dead! Of all things, my sister is still alive."

I was planning on letting Mission handle this one, but Darius steps in. "You don't seem _that_ interesting in seeing your sister, even though she made it off a planet before the Sith turned it to dust."

"Griff, I need to ask you something," Mission says quietly, "I didn't think of it until just now… You and that space-rat Lena left me on Taris all those years ago… You never really planned on coming back… did you?"

"Well, there's… Erm…" Griff stutters, apparently caught off guard by Mission's question. "That's not exactly it, you know? I always meant to go back to Taris, sis… As soon as I had the creds to pay of Lena and my debts!"

"Yeah, and whose idea was it to leave her there?" I but in, ganging up on Mission's imbecile of a sibling.

Not too unreasonable of a question, but I can practically feel everyone's eyes on me. Except Griff's, though, since he's pretty much locked onto his own feet. I don't know if I've ever seen a worse liar. Except possibly myself, on some days.

"I would have come back!" Griff argues hastily, rising to his own feet.

"So it was you!" Mission shouts, "All those years, I waited for you to come back and get me off a planet where I was treated like a second-class citizen! I'm your sister, Griff, and thanks to you, I was on Taris for years. Years, Griff!"

"You might have been young, but you knew how to take care of yourself…" Mission's brother whimpers, taking a step back from his sibling's verbal wrath. "You're here now, everything worked out fine…"

Mission takes a deep breath. "I would be surprised that's all you have to say, but… I don't know what to say to you anymore."

Once he's done dusting himself off, Griff turns his attention to Darius. "Well then… Say, you've got a tough-looking band of spacers… and a Jedi! You want to help someone out here?"

The former Dark Lord of the Sith quite literally face-palms at that one. "I've negotiated your release with the Sand People. I'm starting to regret that, though."

"Oh…" the Twi'lek's shoulders slump, "I should be able to find my way… but when I get back, I won't have a single credit in my name. I couldn't get you to give me a bit of a loan…?"

I raise an eyebrow as Darius thunders forward, looking like a giant compared to the pathetic alien in front of him. "If I wanted to, I could just leave you. And you're hitting me up for money?" Damn, he's even reaching for one of his two lightsabers, and I honestly don't know if he intends to use them. I make a grimacing face in Bastila's direction for a second, surprised by Darius' shift in attitude.

"Don't talk to me anymore, ever." Mission warns, "Get out of here. Now."

"That didn't go too well… Sis always was a little too feisty for her own good. She'll cool down in time," Griff mutters to Darius, not seeming that worried about how mad his own sister is. Talk about self-serving.

I knew Griff was a complete ass in the game, but this is just ridiculous. I glare at him as he passes by our group, and decide to pass him a decent warning. "I wouldn't be so sure."

"We've had our fights before," Griff says, "She's going to come around soon enough. You sure _you_ wouldn't be able to spare me and Lena a single credit?"

I do take notice that he keeps referring to the fact he might still be with Lena, but that's not the really important thing here. "Sod off," I spit, rolling my eyes. This fucking guy…

"Goodbye Mission!" The Twi'lek shouts once he's out of the prison, "I'll see you in Anchorhead."

Everyone in the group watches Griff leave, and I don't know about them, but I'm really happy to see the back of him. Hopefully our reunion with him later, assuming we even do, will go a bit better than that. At one point a few days ago I seriously considered stopping Griff from just running off like he does in the game, but now… I think Mission would like to see him leave. For good. I've been in nasty fights with my own family, but never like this…

No, no, even as messed up as Griff is, getting him and Mission on at least speaking terms should be a goal before we leave Tatooine. If they never see each other, this would be an awful way to end things. At the very least, a decent goodbye. It's something I never got to do, and I won't let Mission leave with that either.

"Mission?" Darius asks, losing his angry demeanour in an instant.

"I'm fine," she assures all of us. "Let's go out there and get that kriffing Star Map."

Yes… and in the meanwhile, I'll try and figure out what to do with Griff.

* * *

I seem to have forgotten that wild animals reek. Like absolute shit. Literally, in this case. I'm standing near a Banthas, hot breath flowing onto my face, and that's not pleasant either, especially with the moisture as well. It's an impressive beast, to be sure, towering over me, but that doesn't change the fact that it stinks. I wouldn't really want to ride that. Unless you want your sense of smell removed, I can't imagine why anyone would use this thing as transportation.

The creature in front of myself, HK and Canderous turns, apparently smelling the food stuffed into our pockets. So the plan works. Animals are anything if not predictable. Well, given our plan… These Banthas certainly deserve to be used as bait for the Krayt Dragon, which just as it was doing so in the game: the damn monster is keeping us out of the cave where the Star Map is hidden. Just nearby we found a tan Twi'lek and a human; the latter ran into cave against the warnings of the Twi'lek. Needless to say, the Krayt Dragon is a bit less hungry than it was before.

So, here we are, using fodder to lure some Banthas to the mouth of this massive cave – we've joined up with the Twi'lek hunter, Komad Fortuna, to kill the Krayt Dragon. Banthas are the Dragon's primary prey, and enough of them will bring the Dragon outside, where there are apparently fifty mines that'll blow the Krayt Dragon to hell and back. Erm… and back again.

"Alright, I think they've smelled the food," Canderous declares. The Banthas are really damn close, sniffing loudly. Time to lead them away.

All three of us turn around, racing towards the two speeders where Darius, Komad and rest of the crew are waiting for us. There's already a duo of Banthas waiting for the group we're hauling over here. Geez, running in the desert is really, really stupid. Now it's even hotter… Sweaty face, itchy arms… But I'm in the right place, reaching deep into my pockets for the fodder stored there. Damn, the Banthas know what that is, alright, given how their heads are following my every move. I toss their food in front of them… That ought to keep them busy for the next few minutes.

And hopefully draw out the Krayt Dragon…

I walk up to Darius and Komad, practically panting and wheezing. I hate running. I hate manual labour. It's my phobia. "They're out there now," I manage to report, gasping for air.

"Your dragon better be out here," Darius scowls, glaring at Komad.

"_It'll come. With this many Banthas in one place, even a slumbering Krayt Dragon should be drawn out."_

Okay, awesome. As if on cue, the ground shakes, even at this distance. Damn, I really wish I had a glass of water. I turn to look inside the cave, which is really dark – only two yellow orbs can be seen inside. The eyes – and they're getting closer! The thundering grows in strength and frequency; the beast is on move. The Krayt Dragon roars, mouth emerging into the sunlight. Geez, and the strangest part is that the Banthas have no idea what's going on. Stupid things.

The snot is quickly followed by a full head, and it's big. Bastila wasn't kidding about the size of these things. I grimace as I see a foot, then even more of the body emerge from the cavern. Jesus! I can't even being to fathom the size… the teeth alone are large enough to rip me in half with ease. No wonder we needed five Banthas!

An explosion quickly changes the game – a mine underneath the hoof of the Krayt Dragon makes a pretty sizable boom, apparently. The beast cries out in pain and anger, but still advances, much faster this time. A series of explosions follow, one after another. A moment later, all of us are taking a step back –the Krayt Dragon is falling right towards us.

The explosions finally die down, leaving the Banthas alone and rather confused. The Krayt Dragon is now on its side, mouth open – quite dead now. Take that, you big ass.

"_Well done,"_ Komad congratulates us, eagerly shaking Darius' hands. _"I have nothing to gain from the cave inside, as per our agreement, I would like to remove certain objects from the Krayt Dragon's remains."_

"Yeah, sure, sure," Darius mutters, barely paying attention to our ally. Instead, I can see him peering inside the now empty cave. Just near the back, there's a glint of light against metal… Our Star Map hasn't moved! Fantastic. "Alright, mind the corpse, and plug your noise."

Since Darius is closer, I raise an eyebrow, but the instant I take three steps towards the cavern, I see, or rather smell, exactly what Darius is talking about. Oh, fuck, I take back what I said about the Banthas, dying Krayt Dragons are much, much worse. The creature has been forced onto its side, insides opened up from the explosions. In fact, they're sort of all over the place. No wonder this thing's dead. Much of the beast's belly is blackened, the parts that haven't been blown off, rather.

I reach for my nose, trying anything to get the stench away. Oh, goodness… A few moments later, we're passing by the Dragon's back legs, and finally the tail, which is still snaking into the cave. Behind us, Komad seems busy extracting something from the Krayt Dragon's guts, a pearl if this is like the game.

"What a wonderful smell you've discovered!" I cough, struggling to breathe effectively.

Wordlessly, our entire group heads into the dark, damp cave – the ground turning to stone beneath us instead of sand. Corpses line the walls, chewed and tattered, almost thrown about. True to what I remember, the Star Map is sitting amongst all of this, close to the back wall.

Bastila notices our objective as well. "We seem to have found the Star Map. Do you think there's any coincidence, since it's here, in the lair of a Krayt Dragon?"

"And another was in Kashyyyk's Shadowlands," Jolee points out, stopping in front of the ancient device.

Impressively, Darius waves a hand – and the Star Map opens. Casual use of the Force there, mate? Shouldn't Bastila yell at you for that one? Having seen this dozens of times in a computer screen and twice before, this whole Star map opening process is a bit less impressive than before. The trio of arms unfold, and a holographic map is projected between them.

I instead turn my focus to some of the nearest corpses, trying not to be sick from the messy remains. One of these really should be Bastila's father… How morbid, really. The nearest one's a Twi'lek, and Bastila is human… Another one but, too mangled to check out. I take a step away from the Star Map, which is humming madly behind me now… Ah! This might be it, there's even a little glowing cube another metre from the corpse. Not even that badly bitten… Oh, god, I'm getting used to this.

"Bastila!" I call out, putting aside our long standing feud. She definitely needs to see this.

Almost as if on command, the Jedi appears at my side, looking a bit annoyed. An instant later, her grey eyes dart down to her father's decayed body, widening with surprise. Um… what do I do? She's not Mission… I don't know her that well, and not to mention, we've been at each other's throats since Dantooine… no, since Taris. If I hadn't seen how nasty she and her mother were towards one another… I wouldn't even consider helping her at all.

Does that make me any better of a person?

"Those are speeders," Mission bluntly states behind Bastila and I, and just now I'm noticing the sound of engines, and tiny steel coloured dots on the horizon… getting closer quite a bit. I snap my head back to Bastila and her father, finding the woman picking up the shiny device, the holocron that her mother wants. I'll have to ask her about that later. Right now, it seems we've got more company.

"Type-33S," Carth adds, "Civilian version, maybe borrowed from a local speeder rental shop out here? Why didn't we do that?"

"They were expensive!" Darius quickly says, squinting to see the approaching vehicles. "And those are apparently likely to get shot down by the Sand People."

Oh, no! Those better not be what I think it is… We're going to find out quite soon, though, since they've stopped next to the Krayt Dragon's remains. On each one of the speeders emerges a human, clad in dark robes. They're Sith, then. Especially when each of them pull out crimson coloured lightsabers, that's just about a dead giveaway. Except the midget in blue…

Calo Nord? And Darth Bandon, Malak's apprentice? Wait… wasn't Calo Nord supposed to return on Kashyyyk? I remember panicking that the short little bounty hunter wasn't there – but apparently that's because they've all joined up to kill us. I hate the universe, just as it hates me.

I race up to the rest of the group, between Zaalbar and Mission. Everyone's readying their own weapons, which means its my cue to pull out my blaster pistol. Safety, off! But what is a blaster going to do against a lightsaber? Can't they stop them, or deflect them? This sounds like a huge problem.

"That's Bandon," Bastila informs Darius, yellow bladed laser sword emerging from nowhere. "Malak's apprentice."

"And Calo," Canderous adds for good measure, though most of the party saw that bloke back on Taris. It's a wonder he survived, didn't a roof fall on his head?

We're now at the mouth of the cave, sunlight practically burning my eyes right out of their sockets. Geez. Our line-up of enemies are staring us down, weapons also drawn. This here is a duel… from the old west?

"I presumed that we would find you out here," Darth Bandon says, voice smooth and calm. "My master would find this fascinating, but I only have to bring two of you back alive."

The Mandalorian snorts. "And you had to hire the universe's shortest bounty hunter to find us?"

"You won't be getting away this time, Canderous," Calo sneers.

"Enough," the Sith Lord dismisses his smaller comrade with a threatening gesture. With that, he turns his attention to the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_. "Your words mean nothing to me, Jedi. Unless you wish to beg for your life. If not, I will bring your broken corpses before my master."

All hell breaks loose in three, two, one…

"That's not going to happen," Darius declares, twin green lightsabers roaring to life in his hands.

As soon as the _snap-hiss_ of the lightsabers finishes, blaster fire races towards the cave, and the Sith quickly advance towards us. Oh, fuck. I join into the fray as quickly as possible, shooting as many blaster shots in Calo Nord's direction… only to see an orange energy shield surround the bounty hunter. Well, this changes things up a wee bit, then. Especially when the shots that should have landed just hit the shield, turning into wisps of smoke.

I backpedal quickly, passing by some of my comrades, including HK-47. Okay, mate, you can protect me, especially with that flamethrower of yours. Just make sure the wind isn't blowing by me. If I'm set on fire, I'd be really pissed off.

One of the Sith minions heads towards myself and the assassin droid, red lightsaber looking like a blade of pure death. The man's arm reaches back, the one holding the lightsaber. The weapon jumps from his hand, towards HK and I. Oh, shit! I leap away, landing chest first onto the rocky floor. Oh, that kind of hurt. The wind seems to be knocked out of me, but the flying lightsaber spins back towards its owner, whose hand is outstretched, waiting for his lightsaber to return.

Big mistake. I reach for my blaster pistol, planning to blow the Dark Jedi up before he can get that weapon of his again.

"Optimal accuracy ratio achieved!" HK-47 declares, blaster rifle aimed right at the Sith. A single shot shoots forward, and the Dark Jedi's hand is suddenly scorched and blackened from weapon's fire. The man cries in pain, but his lightsaber falls to the ground, deactivated and harmless. I join in, using my own weapon to contribute to the damage. Three shots later, the Dark Jedi falls to the ground, dead. That's one down!

The rest of us have split into groups, taking different Dark Jedi or Calo and his invincible shield. Bastila and Darius seem to be taking on Darth Bandon, who seems talented enough to fight both at once. Mission, Carth and Zaalbar just did the same as HK and I: removed the other Dark Jedi minion from play. Calo, meanwhile, is taking on Canderous and Jolee. But that looks like a losing battle, so I'm going to add my own hand in.

"Oy! Die, you asshole!" I cry, shooting more and more blaster bolts at the midget. Each one is absorbed, but with each shot, the shield grows less and less intense. I hope HK's contributing as well, this is borderline ridiculous. I grunt in pain for a moment, quickly glancing down to my silver amour – seeing another deep black mark on my chest. The armour took most of the hit, but between that and scrambling on a rock – I hurt a rib or two.

Regardless, a few more combined shots between most of the crew, and Calo's shield fails quickly – along with his own life shortly after. As amazing as he may have been as a mercenary or bounty hunter, standing out in the open in Tatooine against five or six armed opponents is just not a very good idea. Perhaps he only expected three of us, which would have been a challenge then.

Whereas myself and the other members of the crew ganged up on Calo, I think we've all silently agreed to leave the fight with Darth Bandon to the Jedi. Each of them is moving incredible fast, weapons nothing but a blur. Even two against one, Bandon seems to be a formidable ally. The way they're fighting, it's not quite as silly as _The Phantom Menace_, but more fast paced than anything from the original films. Damn! As that idiot from the start of KotOR said, "all we'd do is get in the way."

Not to mention I enjoy keeping my limbs attached to my own body.

The only way I can keep track of each Jedi is their lightsaber colours, though both seem to be blending into the sand a wee bit. Two yellow, two green against two red. I think for a moment about shooting at the black mass near the red blades, but the image of Bastila deflecting blaster fire earlier makes me rethink that one.

Without much warning at all, the red blades vanish into thin air, and a pale sphere flies into the sand, followed by Bandon's headless body. The other lightsabers retract as well, but their owners are still alive. The Dark Jedi, is obviously not. Unless he comes back as a ghost, I guess. But this isn't _Harry Potter_.

Both of the Jedi are sweating, but they're alive. Head count… we all made it through that.

Blown up a Krayt Dragon? Check. Star Map? That too. Even through Malak's apprentice and the best bounty hunter in the galaxy? We're the crew of the _Ebon Hawk!_

* * *

With the information contained within the Star Map in our possession, there was no reason to stay in the Dune Sea. Since we left, I've been wondering what to do about Griff, but no answer has really come to mind. I've discussed it at length with Mission – who insists that she wants nothing to do with her own brother. Even if it's possibly the last she will ever see of him. I haven't pointed out that having been in the whole "family is gone forever" situation, I'd regret that choice. It's not like any of us were killing each other – but we weren't a perfect family.

Anchorhead was a nice site, even run down. No Banthas, no Krayt Dragons, and no Sand People. Instead, Bastila and Mission have their own problems to deal with. And we've all going to have to deal with the Gizka that have infested our ship. Stupid little animals. But speaking of everyone's favourite Jedi Princess, we're really close to the Cantina entrance – where we met Helena by accident earlier. I can see her glancing at the door a few times as we head toward the hangar bays.

She's not saying anything, and that's messing with my head. "Hey, Darius," I finally take the initiative. Griff can wait. I'm the only one that knows anything about Helena, and I'll be damned if I'm letting this one go without a fight. "Do you mind if I go get a drink? We've got a bit of time… right?"

Darius blinks. "Um… I guess so… I'm not waiting for you, but I think we've got an hour or two before departure. We're just heading back to Dantooine, anyways."

Dantooine. I don't think so, that planet's going down the drain quite soon. At least something's been done about that, rather than Taris.

I stare at Bastila, waiting. She's not an idiot – and I know she caught my intentions. "I'd like to go as well," she says awkwardly.

Darius looks really damn puzzled at the moment, but finally shrugs. I was a bit worried that someone else, like Mission would want to join in, but I think Bastila's attitude might keep other people away. Behind Bastila's back, I wave a hand just to shake off anyone that might want to come along.

Bastila and I veer off towards the Cantina's entrance, and the Jedi woman continues. "I know what you're trying to do. And I'm only going here with you since my mother will likely accuse me of killing you."

"Thanks," I roll my eyes, glad to see my efforts are being rewarded. Just as before, a healthy cloud of smoke emerges from the Cantina, but the air conditioning is just as sweet the second time. I take a look around the room, and I see Helena in the same corner as before, reducing a full glass of liquid to an empty cup. "There she is," I inform Bastila, though I'm sure she's already found her mother.

We march forwards, darting in between aliens and humans alike, as well as the miniature Jawa servers. Helena looks up, slamming her glass onto the table. Glad to see you again… not.

"Both of you are back," Bastila's mother says, seemingly surprised with us. "Did you find your father's holocron, Bastila? Or have you two come to spite me?"

"I have the holocron, mother," Bastila sighs, pulling out the mentioned device, "I'm just not sure if I want to give it to you or not."

Helena raises her thin eyebrows in surprise. "And why not? Would you deny me even that?"

"I've never denied you anything mother. You might not remember what my life was like before I left for the Order, but I do." Really, I'm surprised how calm the Jedi really is. I was expecting another shouting match here. "You loved living in wealth, and you pushed father to so many treasure hunts. To his death. I remember the fights. And you were eager to send me to the Jedi. Even though I didn't want to go."

Whoa. Bastila at one point _didn't _want to be a Jedi? The world has gone upside down!

"Fool girl!" Helena retorts. "You have a strange way of remember things. That wasn't-."

Bastila interrupts quickly. "No. I don't want to argue with you anymore, mother. It's time we parted ways, for both our benefit."

Oh, this isn't going well. Griff all over again, though this is somewhat better. The same rule applies here though: I just cannot let this happen. Not after being thrown into this universe. "Bastila… Maybe you should listen to your mother before you run off so quickly."

"You don't know her," Bastila argues. "My mother is deceptive and a liar. Why should I give her the holocron?"

"Because I never had any closure with my mother," I admit, ignoring the usual feelings that accompany this subject. "And trust me; you don't want to live your whole live wondering if things could have ended better. If this is the last day you ever see your mother, is that how you want things to roll from here?"

"How would you know?" Bastila quietly questions, sounding almost defeated. "You're only a few youngers younger than I – but you could always return home when this is over."

"I can't. And I never said goodbye."

"Is it too hard to believe that I am dying, Bastila?" Helena joins into the conversation again. "That was not a lie. Is it so hard to think that I wish to see something of my husband before I die?"

"I find it difficult to believe anything you say, mother," the Jedi says, which is only going to keep this whole thing going in a bad direction.

"Would you give her a break? What's the worst that could happen?" I'm getting really tired of this, to be honest. I've had my own life messed up, so why can't someone else just get their own straightened out? Seems only fair, but Bastila's just determined to keep this going.

"You're right," Bastila finally admits. Damn right I am, I played this quest before. "I just find it difficult to let go of the past. I'm sorry, mother."

"I'm sorry as well," Helena confesses, "I wasn't a very good mother. I was hard on you. Your father wanted you to be just like you – go on hunts. But I wouldn't have that. Your father, Bastila… I always tried to keep him away from the more dangerous hunts. I begged him not to go after that Krayt Dragon. But my treatments were so expensive…"

Bastila frowns. "Your treatments?"

"I'm dying, Bastila. But I want you to keep the holocron. It would do me good to know that you have it. And as for you…"

Me? I try my best to lighten the mood by looking silly and surprised.

"Keep an eye on her. Promise me that."

I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. Bastila is quite a bit more talented than I am. Besides, with the _Leviathan_ coming up… I can't exactly make that promise. If anyone should, Darius ought to be the one here. Regardless, I nod my head. A lie.

"Goodbye mother," Bastila whispers, pocketing the holocron.

I take a deep breath after the two of them embrace, and head out the Cantina, with Bastila in tow. That went well, and I hope the quest with Griff goes similarly… That one's going to be quite a bit trickier, especially since it always ended badly in the game.

"You feel better?" I ask, once we're back outside in the heat.

Bastila nods. "Yes. I was surprised that you helped me out. But it gave me a great deal of peace."

I start to formulate a reply, but the same woman that I saw vanishing out in the Dune Sea appears in the corner of my vision. What's she doing here, in the Cantina? And where the name of sanity did she go to? Now she's considerably closer, and I can tell something isn't quite right with her. If I'm not mistaken, the opacity on this lady is around ninety per cent. And I think the colours on her black outfit…

Oh, shit… I barely saw Selenea on Taris – but this close… I think that's her.

I wildly glance to Bastila, who's looking at the same spot I just was, but dismisses my glances at the vanishing lady.

"Do you need a minute?" Bastila questions, looking around the Cantina.

"Yeah," I grunt, attention focused elsewhere.

What the hell? I know that she mentioned Tatooine, but here? Who is this? Questions! And for the first time since I left Earth – I'm just going to demand some. And I don't care how I get them anymore.

**Review please!**


	19. Chapter 19: Too Late

Chapter 19: Too Late

"We cannot banish dangers, but we can banish fears. We must not demean life by standing in awe of death."

~David Sarnoff

**Author's Note: Here we go again. This took a bit longer since I was back in school. I won't be stopping this, obviously, but there's quite a bit less time available to me now.**

**However, it is update Thursday! Brought to you by CPunchMaster!**

* * *

Things are going to get a little bit interesting, here. Finally, I've been waiting for this since Taris… Almost six bloody weeks.

I wait for Bastila to leave the Cantina before I turn my full attention to Selena, or at least the woman I strongly suspect to be same lady that showed up in Davik's estate back on Taris. The instant the Jedi walks out, my head whips around to face the nearby human. Oh, okay… Let's see how I could best get this whole thing started… Should I say something along the lines of: _'Hey, you're here after all!' _or perhaps: _'Nice to see you again.'_

"What the hell do you want?" I abruptly ask, finding none of those options to fit my mood at the moment. I want some goddamn answers. About anything… everything. I really don't know that this Selena would be able to answer anything at all, but I've got a feeling… She's certainly knows more than is she's letting on. Even some sort of idiot would be able to tell that. At the rate I'm going, this may as well be my last chance to get anything of interest. For all I know, my time could be running out quite quickly.

"Not here," Selena replies quickly, head glancing at everyone around us. Great, so she doesn't want anyone else to listen in? At least it might be important then. I silently head outside of the Cantina, following Selena into the alleyway between the Cantina and another building. I ignore the heat that's beating down on us from the two suns. I've been outside for quick a while already, and while this is damn gross – pretty soon we're getting out of here. Somewhere else, even back to Kashyyyk would be wonderful. I really hope that someone has something to solve sunburn, though…

"Hey, normally the ladies don't drag me back to an alley…" I chuckle, feeling really uncomfortable under Selena's gaze – green eyes looking me up and down. But just like I noticed before… Something doesn't seem quite right, like… Fuck, I really can't place it at all. For just a second there, I would have sworn she flickered for just a second… And I'm not entirely sure, but I think the colours might be messed up… Not enough to notice normally, but up close…

"I didn't spend the past six weeks trying to establish a connection for your stupid, immature jokes," Selena responds, and I'm surprised to hear the faintest hint of an American accent there, but if I hadn't spent quite a bit of time in America before my… displacement, I wouldn't have even noticed. Neutral, but a cold voice, to be sure. "And right now, I'm not even sure I can maintain this line for much longer. So I suggest your shut your mouth."

"No, you give me some answers. Now," I demand, not backing down from Selena's rather surprising attitude. "First, how did you know I'd be here on Tatooine? And why didn't you get in contact with me… I don't know, a month ago?

The woman raises a thin eyebrow. "I just told you: My crew and I have spent almost six weeks trying to get our equipment to link up with the visual centres of your brain. You were quite hard to track down."

"No, no," I scowl, "You and I met on Taris – you said you knew my… secrets." Let's leave it at that. I'm not enjoying these stupid games she's insisting on playing with me. If she keeps saying this crap – I certainly won't outright say that I'm from another reality and universe. I'm not that stupid anymore. I think. "And you said that we would meet again. Here. On Tatooine. So don't you fuck with me."

"Taris?" Selena steps back in surprise, "This is the first time I've seen you. We've been tracking you for quite some time, but I assure you – with the connections between realities, this was the very earliest we could even attempt a stable visual signal."

Bullshit. "Even if I believe you, which I don't, what in the name of sanity are you talking about?" I sure don't trust her, especially not now – but I'm not screwing this chance up right away. Let the woman speak!

"First off, I'm not actually here…" Selena explains, and for the second time, I insist that her image stuttered. Not as bad as trying to use some stupid Skype video-chat, but after this second time – I'm not crazy! The heat hasn't caused that kind of insanity yet… It might, at this rate. "About six or seven weeks ago – you were ripped from time and space onto this planet, right?"

Now it's my turn to be surprised. "Yeah… Might as well ended up Xen with Gordon Freeman." Oh, wait… Better not throw in those kinds of references. Never mind! "Regardless, you're right. I've only told one person that… So I'm assuming you know through some sort of magic means."

"Not quite," she says, apparently missing my jokes entirely. Not an usual occurrence here, but it's still somewhat distressing anyways. "This happens to other people than just you – I don't know if you've figured it out yet, but you're not near your homeworld anymore. It would be more accurate to say that you're-."

"In another dimension?" I but in, crossing my arms. "Yeah, when you dropped me on a planet that I knew was going to be burned down to the ground. Figured that one out really quick, thanks."

"So you're aware of your own situation," Selena sighs, "I wasn't looking forward to being the first agent to actually introduce that idea to a subject." She opens her palm, an image appearing over her hand, one of a tunnel – elongated at both ends. "Imagine, if you would, that there are near-infinite realities. Every possible choice folds into alternate 'dimensions,' as you call them."

"Sort of like Star Trek?" I ask, confused. This makes literally no sense and my head is already hurting. It's not putting me in a good mood.

"Well, it's all relative to your own lifetime," Selena quickly adds, as if that's going to help in the slightest. "So it's not as if we could see what's going to happen to you from our end – not without disconnecting and scanning all over again."

Wait… "What did you mean earlier… You're not from KotOR either, are you?"

Oh, mother fucker. I just said KotOR out loud. Um, anyone listening in: that was simply the name of some moon somewhere. Yeah, that's the story and that's what we're sticking by. Luckily, Selena seems to pass it off as another of my quirks. "That's right. We're from your original timeline – though several hundred years in the future. If we're right, we might be the very first people to make contact through trans-dimensional cascades since-."

"Since what?" I nearly shout, panicking quickly. Please don't tell me this is going to kill me or something. Or even worse, mutate me into an inside out pig monster from _Galaxy Quest_. This Selena, not only am I going to refrain from trusting her at all, I'd not put my life in her science-filled hands.

"It's not important," Selena glares at me. Well, then. I don't feel bad at all for keeping my own knowledge at bay. We all have our secrets, I guess.

"Okay then, miss," I snort. Let's get right down to the heart of the real matter, then. She knows I'm not native to this… reality, and apparently is quite familiar with how things work. Fair enough, then what I want should be easy… "If what you're saying makes any sense –can you take me back to my own universe? I do have family and friends you know. At the very least, it sure would have been nice to have at least said goodbye to them!"

Before I even realise it… I'm shouting, possibly at one of the few people than get me out here. But… is that what I even want anymore? Six weeks of running around, helping save the galaxy… Family or not, what was I doing before this? Nothing. Nothing at all. Playing video games, getting ready for college. I was just wondering aimlessly through life. By no means is this the perfect world, but I'm doing something, however insignificant my actions are, whatever problems I've been having –that's something.

Besides, how would I explain my absence to everyone? At least I'd see them again… Damn it. I don't even know what to do anymore.

Selena doesn't seem that taken aback my verbal smack down. "Don't blame me for a naturally occurring fracture in the universe. It's increasingly in frequency, and nobody is certain what triggers each incident. You're here now, there's very little we can do at the moment. The wormholes are generally one-way channels."

"But you're here," I argue, even more frustrated. "So obviously, the whole _we can't do anything_ is crap."

Selena blinks. "It's not quite the same thing. I'm just an image projected through your visual cortex. The only person that can see me here is you. I've been assigned by my… organisation to oversee you, and hopefully find a way to reverse the incursion."

"A lot of good you've done," I scowl. So, still no answers, and no way home.

"It's a work in progress, you would be surprised how difficult it was to simply locate you. We were temporarily tracking another subject in a similar reality to this one, a young woman named Jess– we've had very little success, though. At the best, it may be only a few months until we have a way to bring you back to your original home. Or it could be years. Rest assured, I will inform you when the device is completed and thoroughly tested."

Well, you've got to be kidding me. "You show up again – I suggest you do it a time where I'm not using the water closet. I'll be really cross with you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Selena mutters, virtual image flashing for a few seconds before returning to normal. I can hear the faintest sounds of alarms, which means that it must be coming from Selena's end of the conversation. Oh, dear. "This communication between us is only going to last a few more seconds at most. I'll be keeping an eye on you from here, although as you pointed out, there's nothing we can do from here."

"Why the hell where you on Taris?" I yell, praying for enough time for an answer. Seemingly, though, nobody is listening to me, and Selena vanishes. Which means all I have to go on is her word that she wasn't there. I'd hate to put any faith in her, but from what is ounds like, they're unable to send people through realities. At least I know _how_ I ended up here, some sort of freak accident. Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better about things. And now I've got Selena spying on me, just to make things even better.

I'm standing alone in an alley, and there are all sorts of rats and rodents crawling about, along with a metric tonne of trash. There's a few Jawas near the corner of the building, and I'm suspecting that they're giving me very unusual looks. I'm not entirely sure, however, it's a bit hard to see with those golden glowing eyes staring up at me. Well, if no one else can see her, then I'm quickly going to look like an idiot!

I consider flipping the Jawas off for good measure, but think better of it, and emerge from the alleyway, making sure that nobody else nearby heard my apparently one sided exchange. Worst case, one of the crew might have witnessed or listened in… Oh, that would be a real pain to explain to everyone. Even worse than my origins perhaps, because I've got no proof to back up what I've just learned. I'm not even sure if I'm willing to believe Selena at the moment… Too much to think about.

At least there's plenty to think about. I've got a feeling that I won't be seeing too much of that woman again, I think. I mean, what are the odds than even the best engineers from some sort of future reality would be able to fix my life? I'd say it would be somewhere below zero.

Putting my own musings outside, I find myself practically right outside the hangar where the ship, the _Ebon Hawk_, is resting. And not to mention, of course, filled with those Gizka pests. Perhaps I'll have to say that I found some poison in town and Darius ought to use his funds to purchase it. Otherwise, I'm going to be doing a lot of target practice, I think. Sure, I might need it, but that's beside the point. Standing against a wall near the entrance, though, is Bastila. Of all people, why is she waiting for me? I'll refrain from making an asshole comment, this time.

"Waiting for me, are you?" I raise an eyebrow, peering around. Darius isn't here… Nor is anyone else of interest. Huge long necked animal though, a Ronto. Impressively, a little Jawa seems to be riding it and not falling off.

"Well, yes," Bastila replies, once I'm within a few feet, "We did go into that Cantina, and the rest of the crew might find it unusual if I showed up several minutes before you did. Though I think I did hear you shouting earlier…"

"I stubbed my toe," I lie, keeping a straight face. "I've got quite a short temper sometimes."

"Right…" Bastila mutters. "Besides – I had a question for you, if you're willing to answer them without too much of an attitude."

What? Is she serious? I'm so shocked that I might need to bash a brick into my head to make sure that I'm honestly still awake. Or a pipe wrench!

"Yeah, sure… I guess," I say, following the Jedi towards the hangar bay door. I'm presuming that this isn't anything too major, but given the direction we're walking, it's pretty obvious that we're just going to cover this on the way there… Or perhaps later. Just hopefully before we head off to Korriban, since we're most likely going to be intercepted by the _Leviathan_ and Malak. At least nothing was too bad there – except the whole revelation and Bastila being captured.

I silently wait for Bastila to continue her previous statement, right as the hangar bay door opens, bringing us right back to where our Tatooine adventures begun – right outside the mighty _Ebon Hawk_. What a piece of junk, but it's gotten us all the way from Taris to here. Good ship. I head for _Hawk_, wrapped in my thoughts. A few little pests walk by – the Gizka are not only in our ship, but apparently they've found it amusing to run about the hangar bay, nibbling at the turrets lining the bay. Aside from that, this room and our ship seems just like normal, just like the video game I originally saw it in. There's a bit more people than the game, since this hangar is one of about fifty, all interconnected.

Although, from the looks of it, Darius, Carth and Mission are hanging around, either doing some pre-launch crap or simply looking for Bastila and I. Either way, it doesn't seem like we're racing off this disgusting vile planet right away, which is certaintly a good thing. At some point, I might fill Mission in on what I've been up to – and not to mention, we haven't finished the Griff side quest, for better or worse. Though we could have spent years on Manaan doing side quests, but we didn't. Perhaps this is a KotOR speed play? Erm… alternative universe, as Selena calls it? Oh, that's confusing all right. I guess it makes sense why everything isn't exactly the same as the game I played years ago. Just over ninety nine per cent the same, really.

Either that, or BioWare messed up on a few details. Video games _are_ different from reality, after all. Last time I checked, I don't level up. Sadly, that is. I could really use a few feats and skill points…

"Oh, you two finished your drinks then?" Darius teases from behind the loading ramp, voice raised so that we can hear him over the hissing steam vents on the _Hawk_. The Jedi steps out of the shadows, lop-sided grin etched on his tanned face. "If you wanted to get rid of me Bastila, you could have just said so."

Oh, god… This is really embarrassing. I awkwardly grimace, rubbing the back of my neck. Conversely, Carth seems a bit surprised. He's just jealous Revan isn't female, then. Not that he'd know differently, I guess. Mission seems just a bit amused, but not quite as cheery as normal. Either Griff or our conversations about my past did that. Perhaps both, then.

I avoid looking at Bastila, especially when I hear her start to reply. "You are becoming quite a nuisance. But at the very least, we have to find the last Star Map on Korriban together." Don't sound too upset. Damn, it's hard to tell when she's serious and when she isn't. At least Jennifer Hale isn't using that sultry voice from the Jacob romance… Sultry, indeed.

"The Council never said anything about taking a few days off," Darius counters, wiping his hands across the front of his blue Jedi robes.

"I would hardly imagine that we have the time. Time is of the essence when dealing with the Sith as well as Malak. Soon enough the day will come when we have to face the Dark Lord. I remember how hard it was when I face Malak."

Darius rolls his eyes. "Serious as always. Which means you two weren't off for drinks, I take it?"

"Nothing important," I reassure the ex-Sith Master, "Just some issues that I need to take care of. Bastila could fill you in later, maybe. I'm too thirsty to go on and on." My eyes dart to Bastila, hoping that she caught what I just did. If Darius wants to know what really went on, Bastila can tell him the truth – or she can take up my regular duties of lying to my friends. Either way, I just sort of shunted the problem onto my Jedi comrade. Perhaps we're on speaking terms, but she sort of deserves this. Keep our little feud going, perhaps on a smaller or more playful level.

I'll just have to see how that plays out… No, wait… The _Leviathan_ is coming up dangerously fast, so either Bastila or I is going to get forcibly pulled off the crew. I really shouldn't think about that, but the day… The hour is coming where I won't be able to hide from that idea any more. Either I chicken out, and continue life as a lying coward… Or I could save Bastila and Darius from all that Dark Side stuff – not to mention that if Darius goes all evil on us, that means Mission and Zaalbar will be killed. And Carth, possibly.

Stop thinking about that!

"Right," Darius doesn't sound convinced by my answer, but he's looking over our shoulders. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me…"

Mission follows his gaze, and joins Darius in the camp of being really damn irritated. The instant I look behind me, I figure that it it's time to join their wonderful world of anger. Looking lost and panting like my old dog, is Griff. The very same ungrateful son of a bitch we rescued from the Sand People. Oh, I really hope that he's not thinking of coming with us. I might murder him.

Luckily, Darius seems to have the same idea. "Don't get any ideas, Griff. Step one foot aboard my ship, and I'll cut your head off."

"No need for that!" Griff says, wiping sweat off his blue forehead. "I didn't even know you guys had a ship. I would ask for a lift… If I don't get out of here soon, the Exchange is going to come after me!"

"Great, what have you done _now_?" Mission sighs, moving away from the _Ebon Hawk_ and towards her brother. "We were only gone a few hours, and you've already got the Exchange after you?"

Griff blinks. "I had debts, sis. Not to mention, I had a plan to get heaps of credits… It just didn't work as well. Lena and I don't have any money. Nar Shaddaa is only a few transports away – not even the Exchange can find me there."

"I don't see Lena with you," I notice, joining the let's bash Griff sport. Heh, why don't we play Griffball? "Do you honestly hang on to anyone but yourself? Family, girlfriend? None of them, right?"

"If I'm not mistaken, I'd say he knows this Lena will get rid of him," Bastila suggests, "Which means that he's going to leave her instead. Without even letting her know until it's too late."

"Sounds like Griff," Mission snorts, turning to face her sibling. "I never thought that I would feel sorry for that space rat you ran off with. But seeing you again, I guess I was wrong about you back on Taris."

"Wait, Mish!"

"What do you want to do with him?" Darius asks, ignoring Griff's pleas for attention. "Aside from taking him with us. I don't know if I could stand him for that long. Carth here might get violent."

"I say we leave him," Bastila suggests, folding her arms across her chest.

"… The next ship leaving here isn't for another three hours," Griff says, reading the departure board on one wall. A lot like those airports on Earth, except only half of them are delayed. Rather than all of them being delayed for seventy thousand hours, and you're stuck waiting around for days upon days. Maybe I'm being a bit dramatic.

Mission's brother scrambles towards Bastila and I, presumably looking for anything that would help him with his goal of ditching Mission and Lena – running off somewhere else. Given what Bastila's already had to say about all this, Griff turns towards me. Oh, I'm not doing shit for you. For starters, Mission might have something pretty nasty to say to me.

"You're on your own Griff," the man's younger sister says, "I had to live on my own on Taris. You're not dragging any of us down with you. I'm done with you."

With those final words, we leave Griff to his own fate, the alien racing through the hangar deck to an adjacent building, still looking for a way off Tatooine, away from the surprisingly brutal Exchange... Not the happiest endings in all honesty, but with his guy, it's probably the best choice. Especially for Misison. I'll have to talk to her about that later about this whole ordeal. Hopefully I won't get punched in the face again. I'm still a bit sore from that.

Mission sighs heavily, shaking her head, and heads inside the _Ebon Hawk_, followed by Carth and Darius. Well, that sure put everyone into a bit of a solemn mood. I guess with that out of the way… Bastila met her mother, I found Selena… There really isn't anything left for anyone on Tatooine. At least there was something to appreciate on Manaan, maybe even Kashyyyk… But this planet is vile. I can't believe anything of galactic importance would happen way out here.

"Well, I think that's our cue to leave," I bite my lip, uncertain if I should bring this up… "You still have a question for me right? Now might be the time to do that…"

"It's not important," Bastila reassures me, "I was hesitant to ask anything of you, especially given our working relationship over the past several weeks. Given what happened with my mother, I presumed that speaking with you would be better than speaking with Mission-."

Mission or me? And she was just dealing with Darius' attempts at flirting… Oh, shit. I see what this is about now. Oh… "I'm probably not the person you should be asking. About anything, let alone this topic. I don't know if you've paid attention to what's been going on with Mission and I…" I cough, getting off topic, "But even I can figure out what's going between you and Darius."

Bastila shifts uncomfortably. "I was not prepared to ask for your advice, per say. My Jedi training has almost nothing to do with any emotional entanglements, especially when he and I have been bonded in such an unusual manner."

"I've got nothing," I admit, ignoring my inner fanboy that might as well be screaming at the idea of a proper Bastila and Revan romance. I make my way up the ship's loading ramp, smirking since I'm finally out of the desert. "You've got to figure that one out for yourself. If I were you, I'd do it sooner rather than later."

I'm finally back! Right while I'm revelling in the air conditioning aboard the _Ebon Hawk_, a small creature races past my feet, growling. And then another. Oh, right. The Gizka, those little tan, foot tall monsters that are actually pretty cute. Except for the whole part about how they breed like rabbits. In the ceiling above, I can even hear more of the animals running about. They're everywhere!

This might be a really long trip after all.

* * *

Needless to say, I didn't get a decent amount of sleep with all those Gizka mucking about. There were a few that were kind enough to leap on top of me right after I got to sleep. I was so tired that I slept in my armour, a good decision – it prevented one of the animals for scratching me up. That's okay; I guess I really don't need sleep that badly. I push myself out of bed, quietly leaving the crew cabin. It'd be the day if I woke Canderous up. I've got a general idea of what'd happen to a Gizka if it did that, and I'd rather not have my neck wrung.

I really need a shower, though, by the smell of things. Probably shouldn't have slept in my sweaty jumpsuit and armour. Still a bit damp in a few spots, too. Ugh, this is quite upsetting. I'll stow this later… No, with the _Leviathan_ coming up, I'm not going to. Then when we're boarded, I'm not running around in my civilian outfit. Still, I doubt there are any decent showers aboard the Sith warship, even if ours only lasts a few minutes. There's still sand in my hair, judging by the state of the my pillow.

Speaking of sand, there's certainly some leftover rocks in my shoes…

Yawning, I walk by the loading ramp, rubbing my eyes. Whoever else is up, they're busy doing their own thing, I take it. NPC business… Maybe I should stand in one spot and answer Revan's questions. Broken bones and blood aside, I prefer reality over that aspect of a video game.

While I'm busy waking up, I run straight into a metal object with a clunk. Did I just run into a wall? Look up… Oh, indeed… That is most certainly not a wall. It's a two metre tall moving, mechanical, metal droid. Shit, I just walked into HK-47, our friendly assassin droid. Two words that don't really match up. And I ran into him. I'm going to be killed! My first non-mission interaction with this machine…

"Statement: My exterior shell is primarily constructed of high density durasteel," HK calmly informs me, as my chest starts to ache. "It is advisable that you refrain from ramming your meatbag frame into my own, even with your low quality armour. At best, you may fracture several of your bones."

"I figured that one, thanks," I groan, "What were you doing there, anyways?"

HK-47 simultaneously replies, and tinkers with his own arm. "Observation: While we are both under the employ of my master, I am not forced to interact with other meatbags. Addendum: I will disclose that I was performing a regular inspection of all possible escape routes of this vessel."

Yeah… That sounds like HK. "Why would you even bother with that? We're in hyperspace, in space. Where would you go?"

"Statement: In the even that my master is terminated, I will shut down. However, if the situation arises, I am capable of surviving in a vacuum considerably longer than you would be able to. Clarification: While I feel that this is necessary, it is most certainly a far more efficient use of time that lying on a soft surface for several hours a day."

Sleep is nice! Especially when it's not interrupted. "You may have a point… Think about how much more time I'd have if I didn't have to sleep."

"Statement: Of course, meatbag. I would recommend cybernetic upgrades. You should also consider replacing your fleshy exterior with something more sturdy material."

I chuckle, thinking back to someone else who said something along those lines. "No, but you're not the first person to suggest something like that, actually. I… heard someone who wanted to smell dark matter. He didn't like the idea of being human."

If HK-47 could smile, I'm positive he would. At least smirk, I'd think. "It sounds like a very wise meatbag, unlike yourself."

"I take it you won't cute some of the meatbag stuff, right?" I ask, getting a bit tired of hearing myself referred to in that manner. I thought I got annoyed by Carth's "kid" crap back on Taris. This is just degrading. "I do have a name, you know."

"Observation: Yes, you do have a designation. However, I will make an effort not to use it from this point forward. If you do not enjoy the term meatbag, perhaps fleshbag would suffice?"

"No!" I quickly reply, "Unless you want me to call you murderous metal toaster."

"Observation: Such titles will do very little against my morale. If I have it, it seems to be intact. You, on the other hand, are quite prone to selective taunts designed to increase your combat efficiency."

Combat? "Wait… What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Conclusion: By testing your reaction to certain statements, I have been uncovering the optimal series of prompts to increase your abilities in armed combat."

Hey! What an ass… For a droid, that is. "There's more to life than killing 'meatbags', I think." I say, using air quotes for extra emphasis. I really don't enjoy being referred to as a meatbag; it's considerably less humorous when it's directed at me. Repeatedly. Over and over again.

HK pauses for a moment. "Statement: I would have to disagree, and diagnose you as a psychotic meatbag. Since you requested an alternative to meatbag, that will be your designation… Psychotic human."

I frown, not exactly amused. I move to the side, away from the sealed loading ramp. All the way, HK-47's unblinking optical sensors follow me. He's done tinkering with the panel on his arm, and is now focusing all of his visible attention on me. It's different than talking to a human – or an alien. HK-47 nods slightly when talking, which is the only non-verbal cue that he's even speaking. It's a little eerie; especially since it's a bit darker in the area of the _Ebon Hawk_ we're in. So HK at times seems to be little more than a pair of blood red narrow lights blinking in tandem with his speech.

"I don't like you," I joke, half-serious.

HK continues his emotionless gaze. "Observation: While we are sadly forced to work alongside one another, psychotic meatbag, that does not mean that you should approve of this unit or its functions. Rest assured that I will eliminate you if required to do so by my master."

"Thanks," I drawl, "Great talking to you."

Shaking my head in frustration, I walk around HK and into the main hold of the _Ebon Hawk_, and finding myself alone there, I figure I'll see who's in the cockpit. Carth or Bastila… Who knows…? Given that we're just flying through hyperspace, the ship practically flies itself. At worst, T3 might be running things up there, and it's damn hard to hold any sort of conversation with that little tin can. Not even my cheap little translator can understand whistles and beeps. At least I've got one, better than looking like a racist on Taris.

Crossing through the narrow hallway, it takes a moment for me to adjust to the near blinding light of the blue hyperspace tunnel which is consuming the cockpit's windows. Bright, and leaves a prominent blue tint over everything. Sitting in the front left seat, is Carth, leaning back and monitoring several panels that are blinking slowly. Doesn't seem to be anyone else here, and he and I haven't spoken that much recently. Paranoid, yes, but still… It is Carth.

"Mind if I sit here?" I ask, gesturing to the seat normally occupied by Bastila on the right.

Carth turns to face me, "Alright, but don't touch anything. Sith training or not, I don't think you've got the qualifications to fly a ship like this."

Yeah, the last thing I want to do is rip our ship to pieces. I push myself forward and onto the cockpit's seat in front of me, being especially careful not touch a single button or panel. Damn, there are quite a few, and I haven't got the faintest clue what any of them are. Except that middle lever, that might be hyperspace. Or it could flush the toilets! How am I supposed to know? Actually, flushing a lavatory with a horizontal lever would be endlessly amusing. Engage water sewage treatment!

"I won't blow up the ship… sir," I reassure Carth, sitting squarely in the seat. Not comfortable, but everything is an arm's reach away. It's not just that there are controls in front of me, of course. They're also on both sides, reaching to the same plane as my chair. Buttons, displays, a lever or two… and a lot of switches. The majority of all this stuff is switches, with tiny little labels below them. A few have protective covers over them, but still… I wonder what these all do. Spinning, that's a good trick!

"Good, I'd hate to have the new Private destroy our ship on the way to our last planet," Carth mutters, flipping something on his own control panel. "Or, rather… What Bastila says is the last planet we're visiting."

I try to lean back, and quickly find that I'm not really able to. This has chair sucks, and has no recline! "Never know where we might end up," I reply, drumming my fingers against my leg. After all, we're not exactly heading back to Dantooine or Korriban. "And I don't know about you, Carth, but I've got… a bad feeling about this."

Carth looks at me with surprise. "A bad feeling?"

Oh, bollocks. Caught using the classic _Star Wars_ quote, then…? "Just guessing…" I deflect with a shrug. "Call it a gut feeling, I don't know. We've had it pretty easy so far – who knows if it's going to stay that way?"

Easy being a relative term, really.

"I don't know if I'd say it's been easy," Carth argues, "And the two Jedi are being pretty close-mouthed about this whole mission in general. Especially recently. You'd think that with all the Star Maps we've found already, the Jedi might have something already."

"Meh," I try to brush off Carth's paranoia. "We don't know any more than they do, honestly. It's not that the Jedi are conspiring against us or anything."

Carth blinks. "I won't be so sure about that. Jedi aren't too far from Sith, especially when they've been known to switch sides at a whim. Hell, not just the Jedi…"

"Yeah, I get it," I moan, once more regretted my infamous back story. "But really… Darius and Bastila? You couldn't ask for a more Jedi-like duo. I think…"

"And that worries me. You know, on occasion it seems like they don't see past one another to the rest of the crew."

"I hadn't noticed," I admit, though now that Carth says it… Yeah, perhaps. I'm not sold on the idea… "Maybe they're just into one another, you know?" Romance, friendship, though I'd say it's the first one. That was canon, not that it means much here, of course. After all, I've done a good job mucking up the game's canon, but Selena didn't say anything about that…

"I'd say. I'm more used to taking actions, being on the front lines rather than escorting a neophyte padawan across the galaxy. We just seem to be useless."

I shrug, "Every little bit helps, they say."

Our ship shakes for a moment, the hyperspace tunnel rocks back and forth for just a moment. The next moment, everything returns to normal. Beside me, Carth's busy flipping switches and resuming control of the ship. Not the most stable ride, perhaps we've got some turbulence. In space.

Carth finishes his few seconds of work, and turns away from the displays. "Just a kink in the hyperspace drive. Nothing to be worried about. This ship even corrects for that when on auto-pilot."

"Nifty," I murmur, right as I hear a few footsteps from behind the cockpit. I turn my head to look behind the seat, since someone didn't think to have a swivel chair in here. Maybe Bastila wants her seat… Darius is often up here too. I'm not a pilot, so I really shouldn't take up this seat if someone more qualified, anyone other than me to be honest, shows up.

Much to my own surprise, though, it's Mission who's up here. I can see T3 behind her, now working on a panel with its robotic arm. But it's actually painfully obvious that the astromech droid sure wasn't the one walking in here. I rise to my feet before I even think about it. Stupid, stupid.

"Mission," Carth calmly greets.

"Carth…" Mission replies curtly, before addressing me. "You've… got a minute? Or two?"

"Captain Onasi," I lazily salute as a joke, and I step away from my own seat, and head into the small communications room just near the cockpit, the same room I had a conversation with Darius. There are three different chairs in here, and luckily they all swivel. I take the one closest to the room's doorway, whereas Mission sits across from me, leaning against a control panel. I tap my feet against the deck, awkwardly waiting for Mission to say something.

"What's up?" I try, breaking our uncomfortable silence. Given the tension between us recently… Maybe it's better if I don't say anything at all.

Mission bites her lip, frowning. "I didn't thank you for that whole ordeal with Griff… Did you know he was going to try and run?"

I nod. "Yeah, but originally he wasn't still with Lena. She would have told you about Griff."

"So you took it upon yourself to see if Griff was on that planet?" the Twi'lek asks, sitting forward.

"Yeah, I guess," I say, taking a long breath. "You were probably right, though. I really should have told you earlier about that. About everything…"

Mission speaks up over the low hum of the engines, which just seems to have picked up a bit. "When you told me the truth, it was just insane… Impossible. Not to mention Taris… And we're not even done with this search the Jedi have put us on."

"It's quite a mission," I wink at the pun. I've been waiting for the chance to use that one!

Mission buries her face in her blue hand, "I can always count on you to hide the truth and make really, really bad jokes."

"That's me," I smile. "I'm anything if not consistent."

"Judging by how you're not telling me anything about what's going to happen… Yeah, I'd say you're consistent all right."

I rub my neck, uncomfortable. I still haven't told Mission about Darius being Revan… That's quite a bombshell… And who knows what'll happen if Darius hears about that? If anything, I should be the one to break it to him, rather than just having rumours fly throughout the ship. Besides, I'd like to ask Jolee a bit more, get some advice from the old man. Maybe Bastila…? Oh, hell no, actually. I take it all back.

"Well, still… I did get Griff for you. I figured it was important… I thought about seeing if there was a better option than letting him run off, but…"

"It's Griff," Mission simply states, "You really shouldn't worry about it that much. The fact that you tried to help means something."

"I do try," I smirk, "From playing Pazaak, Nar Shaddaa rules… To helping you with your brother…"

Amusingly, the Twi'lek winks. "Nar Shaddaa rules are the best..."

"Seems like forever ago… And maybe it wasn't the best way to…" I trail off, stopping myself.

Returning to awkwardness, then. After a few seconds, the fact that I'm still hiding stuff from Mission burns back through my mind. Time to confess a bit. Things are going to get way more interesting, and I haven't told anyone what's coming up. "Things are going to get a bit more interesting, actually. If you don't mind me giving you some spoilers."

As if on cue, the _Ebon Hawk_ violently spasms, nearly throwing me to the deck, much stronger than any turbulence we were experiencing before. Carth might be driving drunk, but that was a might big shake. The engine roars to life, a thousand times louder than before. Normally it's never that loud, not even when flying though the atmosphere. I gasp in pain, and shoot a confused look to Mission. The woman runs out of the communications room, and I quickly follow, sprinting into the cockpit.

Gone is the bright hyperspace tunnel, replaced by an endless backdrop of stars. There are no planets in sight, just different coloured dots and wisps of interstellar clouds. Nebula. Right in the centre of the _Hawk's_ cockpit is a small, silver object. It's not a star, maybe a planet or moon? I thought there weren't…

I stand behind Carth, and next to Mission. T3 has moved into the cockpit, and it sounds like we're not the only ones coming back into the cockpit. I turn around, seeing both Bastila and Darius – both looking a little worse for wear.

"Sith Interdictor field," Carth informs all of us, "We've been pulled out hyperspace. We're not going anywhere."

Oh…

Shit. The _Leviathan_.

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**Review please! It really means a lot to me.**


	20. Chapter 20: Don't Pick Me

Chapter 20: Don't Pick Me

"A sudden bold and unexpected question doth many times surprise a man and lay him open."

~Francis Bacon

**Author's Note: Time for the **_**Leviathan**_**! **

**Thanks for all the reviews so far. Update Thursday is brought to you by me. As is this story. However, BioWare and LucasArts own everything. More or less, really. Except any new OC's or such. And Jess, briefly mentioned in the last chapter. She belongs to Some Random. Just thought I'd clear that one up.**

* * *

Well, I've got the worst timing possible today. At least with at the moment, that is. Woke up from a nap of sorts, tried to let Mission know about the impending doom of the _Leviathan_ sequence and all that good stuff…. And before I can say more than two words, the damn thing already happens. What sort of imbecile decided that we should get yanked out of hyperspace now? Of all possible times, right when I was about to say something?

Half of the crew, including myself, seem to have gathered in the rather small cockpit – Bastila and Carth in their own seats, rapidly hitting buttons and switches, but to no avail. Darius, Mission, Canderous I are all standing near the back of the room, though Darius is sort of hanging on to Carth's chair, longingly gazing out of the window in front of us. Only a few minutes ago, that image was actually an endless blue hyperspace tunnel. Instead, we're in the middle of nowhere, with a canvas of stars behind the distant Sith warship.

"We can't jump back into hyperspace?" Darius asks Carth, holding his position as the whole ship shakes back and forth slightly, like an old boat. "I mean, there's no way we can overpower that thing."

"It's a Sith Interdictor ship," Carth replies, not looking away from his work, toggling a control panel to his right. "They must have been waiting for us on the hyperspace route. We're caught in their tractor beam."

Well, that certainly explains why we're moving forward. For a second there I thought we might be going under our own power, the main engine is making quite a racket back there.

"See if you can break out, Carth. All power, full reverse," Darius calmly orders, while the Sith Interdictor gets ever closer, now much larger than a distant dot.

Okay, I thought the _Hawk_ was loud before this? I was certainly wrong, now it's even worse than those massive semi-trucks idling. Despite Darius' order for reverse, the only thing our beastly vehicle seems to be doing with all its supposed power is advancing towards the enemy starship. And vibrating to the point where I feel like my teeth are going to shake themselves right out of my skull and onto the deck. While it wasn't the most stable of rides a minute ago, now I can barely stand. Reverse hereby means that we're going to shake and shudder like nothing else, and still move forward. I thought that was what an old car was for?

"Locking stabilisers, but we're still moving forward!" Carth warns us, the Sith vessel getting closer and closer.

"Cut the power!" Darius shouts over the growing noise. An instant later, the _Hawk_'s power reverts to a minimal state, the lighting shifts from white to a red colour. Red alert, then!

"You recognise the ship?" Bastila asks, leaning back in her seat.

Darius nods. "It's one of the ships that were over Taris…"

"The _Leviathan_," Carth adds, crossing his arms, no longer in control of our ship. "Saul Karath's vessel."

Similarly giving up, Darius takes a step back from clutching onto the pilot's seat. "Saul Karath? Your old mentor?"

"My old mentor," the Republic Captain confirms.

Even worse than that, Darius… He's also the source of Carth's attitude problems and inherent suspicion with everyone that irritated quite a few gamers back in the day. Honestly, he's not that bad sometimes…. Still, I think that's because the game limited him and some people might not have done the romance… Not saying that Darius should, though. Might make Bastila pretty upset there!

"Main hold, now," Darius quickly barks, purposefully walking through Mission and I towards the main living area of the _Ebon Hawk_. He's a man on a mission, but I'd say that's because he's got to do the whole part of the game where the player picks one of the crew to save everyone else. Neat little thing, that, and some of them were downright hilarious. Mission in particular. I think the player could pick anyone but Revan, Bastila, Carth and Zaalbar…

Wait. Last time I checked, I'm not Revan, Bastila Carth or Zaalbar. That means that according to simple logic, I could be picked to break out of the _Leviathan_ prison block and get everyone else out too… And I'm not even good at that stuff! There's no way anyone would pick me for anything like that. Oh, god… What if we're stuck in Malak's hands forever because Darius makes me do this? That would be a sad, sad way for our quest to end. Game over, no retries.

But really, I shouldn't get too worked up about this… Okay, trying to calm down… Nope, no luck. I'm nearly hyperventilating already. Fight Sand People with the rest of the group? Fine. Jump into a Sith fighter and raid the Sith base with Zaalbar? Okay, I guess. But this?

While everyone else rapidly follows, I take a final look out the cockpit windows. In the short time since we were ripped out of hyperspace by the Interdictor, the _Leviathan_ has become a fully-fledged beast, proudly resting in space, the left side of the ship facing us. Already from end to end, the Sith ship dominates the entire canopy. From this distance, numerous hangar bays and gun emplacements are visible, and with the latter, most of them are aimed right at us. Even if we could break free of that tractor beam, I don't know if we could fly out of here in time. I'm not a pilot by any means, but that's a lot of firepower to dodge.

No wonder the Sith are winning this war, though.

I follow the others into the _Hawk_'s main hold, and for the first time, it's dark in here. Switching to emergency power has given us all a lovely pulsing red light over our heads. Everyone else on the team is here, gathered around the centre table. I take my normal spot next to Mission, but to my own displeasure, on my other side is HK-47. Rather than have a little hologram above the table, there's nothing. With the engines powered down, it's eerily quiet. I can't really say that I like it all that much.

"When the Sith attacked by home world, this ship was at the head of the fleet, it's Saul Karath's vessel. My family was killed that day." Carth says to Darius, as they both take their own usual spots around the circular table.

"Don't do anything you're going to regret," Darius calmly advises.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid," Carth reassures the Jedi, "I won't throw our lives away in some mad quest for vengeance. But if I get a chance to kill Saul during our escape, nobody better get in my way."

Bastila frowns. "Talk of an escape is somewhat premature, don't you think? We don't even have a plan to get out of this mess yet! The Admiral probably doesn't know how many of us are on board, and we might be able to use that to our advantage."

Oh, there's Bastila! Hopefully you're not the one captured by the end of this; ideally let's see if we can do this without anyone being caught… Though I'm sort of wondering if she and Darius sort of got together yet. It's really damn obvious that's going to happen sometime…

"Don't worry," Darius snorts, "I should be able to get away from Karath's guards."

I avoid the instinct to face-palm as Bastila counters. "The Admiral is going to be watching the three of us far too closely for any plan involving you, me or Carth to succeed. It's going to be up to someone else to get us out. If someone can avoid capture, they could come and rescue everyone else later. It's a long shot, but it's our only hope."

Yeah, just don't pick me. I'll get everyone killed, and that's something that's just bloody fantastic. I don't even know if I've got any sort of special talents, so maybe Darius won't be inclined to pick me. Fuck, if I had known this sort of thing would ever come up, I should have made myself look even worse in combat and such, just to avoid this. Should I stay quiet as possible? I don't normally, maybe that would look suspicious…. Panicking!

"_A few Sith won't be much of a match for a Wookiee,"_ Zaalbar volunteers. Good chap, but you weren't an option… Maybe you'll do it anyways!

"I'm sorry, Zaalbar, but that probably isn't wise," Bastila argues, "We're going to need some inconspicuous for this task, someone the Sith won't be able to find or think twice about… and Wookiees tend to draw a lot of attention, especially from arresting troops."

"If we're going to pick someone to save our skins we better do it quick. In another minute we're going to have Sith soldiers marching up our loading ramp," Carth shakes his head, stepping away from the main hold and towards the aforementioned loading ramp.

Darius only spends a few moments thinking. "A droid might have the best chance. HK-47, do you have any suggestions?"

"Suggestion: My construction includes a reserve memory chip and back-up power supply that will automatically kick in if I have been shut down too long. While the Sith would likely dismantle me as quickly as possible, as a droid I could endure environments that would kill meatbags. Dispose of me out the airlock, I will reactive and force my way aboard the enemy vessel."

Hey! We just talked about the vacuum of space before this! I can't remember exactly, but I don't think that was exactly what would have happened in the game. That's actually pretty cool, and it gets rid of a lot of the risk that could have been present. Though, really, Darius ought to pick HK, anyone else but me. At least they'll get the job done. I don't care that I'd likely be killed, I'm a lot more concerned with the fact that I'd get _everyone _into some serious trouble.

"Okay," Darius crosses his arms and frowns, "Carth, take the droid and toss him out the airlock…" The Jedi pauses, deep in thought while Carth and HK depart from the main hold. "We might need more than HK, though. Inconspicuous... Stephen? You've got some Sith knowledge. Think you could use that to your advantage?"

Oh, mother fucking asshole!

I try to keep my cool, though I'm not entirely sure that's even possible given the rapid, savage pounding of my heart. "Maybe. If I can convince the guards that I'm one of them, a spy or something, they might not lock me up right away while they verify that."

There's some useless speculation I just pulled straight out my ass. Don't pick me, don't pick me…

"And I could probably goad the guards into a making a mistake. If I get them mad enough, they might put me in separate cell to punish me. If they're focused on you three, and Stephen, I could easily be able to sneak out of my cell and rescue you along with HK," Mission speaks up, proposing her own NPC rescue option.

Pick Mission, Darius! Do _not_ pick Stephen!

Before Darius can even say another word, the _Ebon Hawk_ wobbles and a loud clank comes from near our loading ramp. The red emergency lighting disappears, and from the continued banging and other sounds – I'd say that we've quickly run out of time and we're going to be seeing some of the Sith really soon. In the words of Sam Beckett: Oh, boy!

Ignoring the sounds of the Sith soldiers, Darius' head bounces between looking at Mission, and myself. We don't have a lot of time, mate… "You're both up. May the Force be with you."

Fuck. I've got Mission as back-up, but I'm still up for this. Why? What did I do to deserve this? I can't pull this off, and if Mission and HK can't compensate for my own stupidity, then everyone is going to die. All because Revan picked an idiot, a talentless fool for something important. This isn't a video game; we can't just reload our last save!

"They're going to breach the hull in a few seconds," Bastila warns, tossing her lightsaber onto the table, already surrendering for the Sith that are going to be here any minute.

Everyone else follows suit, and I do so as well. Canderous and Zaalbar pace around the main hold; we're all just killing the last few moments until we're inside the belly of the beast. Only a few seconds later, and metal footsteps grow in number and frequency: they're inside our ship. This is going to be something I wish I saw in the game: I might be able to figure out what to do exactly if I knew what was going to happen.

"Sorry," Mission whispers in my ear, before taking a quick step away from me. Without any warning, her arm pulls back and comes hurtling towards my face. Oh, not this again! Thanks to my Twi'lek friend, I'm once more sprawled across the ship's deck, with probably another nasty mark on my face. This recent obsession with punching me isn't doing wonders for the sort of relationship we're trying to maintain.

"You Sith spy!" The Twi'lek spits, "You're a good for nothing coward!"

I force my eyes open, seeing several pairs armoured boots alarmingly close to my face. Why… hello there! I blink a couple times to make sure I'm not hallucinating. But really, I am now fixated on Sith shoes. Rather than try to get up and provoke them, I'll play it safe. Staying down here doesn't seem that bad… Unless one of them decides to kick my face in. Okay, I really need to stop thinking about what might happen. It probably isn't so good for my health.

A few of the metal feet shuffle, and a pair move towards where I believe Mission is standing. "Hands up!" One of the Sith says through a voice filter.

"I don't have to do what you say!" Mission sneers, "You Sith are softer than my fat mother, and I'm surprised you even have the balls to come aboard and even think about trying to arrest me!"

Oh, don't push them too hard. I pretend to spit a bit of blood onto the metal flooring, right when two of the aluminium feet are particularly close. Sympathy card has been played! Let's see if that'll work to my advantage… Come on…

"Quiet, alien, and we won't put you into solitary confinement for the next several months!"

Someone kicks my back, probably Mission. "You don't scare me! Neither does this Sith scum here. Better stop me from beating your pathetic friend to death!"

"Take her away!" One of the Sith orders, while several of the Sith walk out of the _Hawk's_ main hold along with Darius, Bastila and all the others. One of the closer armoured soldiers bends down near me, faceless visor gazing at me. Rather than another pair of eyes, I can only see my own features, battered and bruised. Mission did a number of me… Or being on Tatooine. Regardless, that isn't the same face I remember seeing in the mirror every day when I woke up. Six weeks does a lot, I guess.

"You there," the Sith soldier greets me, "That Twi'lek seemed pretty savage. Are you wounded?"

I shake my head, pushing myself up to a standing position. Okay, I found out on this trip that I'm really good at lying. So let's put that practice to good use. "I'm alright, I think… Thanks for the save. Twi'lek blew my cover… They figured that I was a spy when the _Leviathan_ ripped this freighter out of hyperspace. Waste of three months."

"Welcome back to the Sith," the closest trooper drawls.

"Not so fast," the lead soldier says, hand outstretched, palm open. "You're one of our spies? I suggest that you provide us with your information. Now."

Oh, shit. What would a real Sith spy do? "I don't need to provide anything to you!" Don't be too cocky, but I got to pull this off. Otherwise, I'm going to be shot in the face until I'm dead. "I know you and your crew is all proud of yourself for blowing Dantooine to hell and back, but you know how procedures work."

I haven't the faintest ideas how procedures work… And for all I know, there aren't any! But it's a bluff, and I played poker enough times in High School to know how to bluff. More or less, I did loose several matches senior year… Live and let learn. Not live and let die.

"You spies," the commander taunts, "I'll be keeping you in quest quarters under lockdown until the Admiral can verify your identity. That might be awhile since we've captured Bastila and the rest of your former crew."

I quietly breathe a sigh of relief. There's my chance! "Good," I say, keeping my slightly arrogant attitude consistent with that of a Sith spy. I need a butterfly knife and a suit to be an awesome spy, though. We all exchange blank looks. "Well, let's get out of this stupid ship, then!"

I'm not dead!

One of the lower-ranking Sith soldiers gesture towards the loading ramp they entered in. I follow him or her through the dark and deserted bowels of the _Ebon Hawk_, and not more than a minute later, I step aboard the metallic deck of the _Leviathan_. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the powerful illumination in this hangar, but the details quickly come into focus. The rest of the crew, sans HK-47 and Mission are being escorted out of the hangar. The blue Twi'lek, though, is being forcibly dragged another direction, screaming and shouting. I can't make out what she's saying exactly – but she's doing her job of getting dragged off to solitary confinement.

I keep a neutral expression as best I can while the crew is removed from the hangar deck, thrown into a Sith prison somewhere on this ship. Poor Bastila, Carth and Darius though… Saul Karath sure did some nasty things there. They say torture doesn't work in the real world, but I'm guessing it hurts just as much. The only positive thing, really, is that they didn't just pick me to rescue them. Speaking of which…

Okay, plenty of Sith around still… I follow a few of them out of the hangar deck into a small room, likely some form of an interconnecting chamber. Another Sith is standing on the other side, and is naturally clad in that ridiculous aluminium looking armour they all seem to love so much. What if there was a bad bit of sun, like… I don't know, on Tatooine? Even worse than the white plastic Stormtroopers, really.

However, now we're not going anywhere, just waiting or taking our time. Hopefully my cover isn't already blown. Talk about a sudden stop to all this. I avoid the urge to tap my foot in anticipation. Calm, collected… Even if I most certainly don't look the part at all. A few moments later, though, a few more of the Sith join us, looking somewhat smug, even though they've got their visors.

"Carth, Bastila, and the crew have been taken prisoner as you ordered, Commander!" One of the new Sith reports, saluting his superior.

"Excellent," the lead soldier replies, nodding in approval. Yep, everything's good here, mate. "The Admiral wants to question Carth and the Jedi personally. Have you searched their ship thoroughly? Admiral Karath warned me that there might be treachery."

One of the recent arrivals speaks up. "We found a Twi'lek in the main hold, and she's got quite the mouth on her! She swore at me and spit on my uniform. She even tried to bite me through my armour! And you should hear what she said about my mother!"

"The Admiral doesn't have time for Twi'lek girls," the Commander sneers, "Throw her in solitary confinement for a few hours. I'll leave it up to you to teach her the proper respect for the Sith."

Oh, then. So that got figured out, though that sounds pretty sinister. Mission, don't get into too much trouble without my useless ass there to save you.

"What about our supposed spy?"

"Leave him on this level, armed guards," the lead Sith turns to me, "Once Admiral Karath is done with the Jedi, he'll be around to verify your status. In the meantime, if you try anything, we'll be forced to gun you down in an instant. You know the procedures."

"Of course," I nod, "Lead the way."

Even deeper into the belly of the _Leviathan._ Not too much longer, and I'll be neck deep in a whole new mess. Time to come up with a plan – because I really don't have one at the moment.

* * *

I pace around the tiny crammed closet the Sith have decided to throw me in. I was promised a room! At least we never went anywhere else besides the hangar and prison level, instead of leaving alone on some level of the ship that I'm completely unfamiliar with. Instead, the obvious thing to do was put three guards in front of a storage closet, and throw me in – without even turning on the lights. Took me almost a minute to find a small panel and flip the lights on.

My habit of walking around this tiny room in circles is certainly producing an irritating and annoying side-effect. The _Leviathan_ doesn't have any carpets, anything resembling luxury or comfort. It's all metal, from the angular walls to the floors and ceilings. It's not an uncommon thing in this galaxy, but at the same time, this place is far worse than anywhere else I've been. It's not even painted, it's all steel! Meaning that every bloody step I take results in a fantastic clanking sound. I'm torn between sitting still, or tolerating the noise. And I've got other problems, too!

No blaster pistol, no weapons at all. If I can't find some way out of here, they're going to find out that I'm not really a Sith spy, and I'll probably be shot on the spot. All I've got is my battered armour, and three Sith soldiers that are ready to blow my brains out in an instant. From what I saw before I was forced in here, there's one across the rather large hallway, and two on either side of the door. I've got that martial arts experience that's come in handy before, but I'd only be able to get one before I'd be shot.

Not to mention that I would have figure out how to use Sith weapons in something like point zero three seconds. And I'm not HK-47. I've only been using a single pistol! Which I am really starting to miss…

Last time I did anything like this at all was back on Taris, when I got rid of those two Black Vulkar guards at the end of the sewer. That was a bit easier, but the only reason that incident didn't result in my death was since I was able to talk to the guards, and they were probably not on alert. And they were close to one another. There wasn't someone on the other side of the hallway…

Close to one another… That might be it.

I try to stop pacing, it's making me a bit dizzy. Part of me is screaming to stay put and wait for rescue. First off, it would be better for my help. But what if something goes wrong with Mission and HK? Or they're waiting for me? I've got to at least try. I owe the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ that much.

That settles it, then. Now, or never.

I cover the short distance between my current position and the doorway in a second or two. The door slides into the wall without a noise, revealing the angular hallways of the Sith warship. Across the hallway, maybe ten feet or so, stands a single Sith soldier, blaster rifle in hand. I can see an arm on either side of the doorway, which means the Sith are all where they're supposed to be. Hopefully that doesn't including filling my body with several holes.

"Back in there, now!" The Sith soldier across the hallway shouts, causing the flanking men to whip around and face me. Easy mates!

Um, time to come up with stuff… Now! "I have to pee," I lie, nervously shrugging. This gets me a chuckle from one of the Sith, but the other two don't seem that amused. "You forgot to give me a latrine."

The Sith soldier with the blaster rifle makes a nodding gesture, which one of the closer Sith, on my right side, seems to understand. Um… Well, that doesn't make any sense to me, then. The Sith to my right steps towards me, arm outstretched. Oh, he's going to throw me back inside. Not exactly what I was hoping for, really. But that'll have to do. Okay… Here. We. Go.

As fast as I can manage, I grab the man's shoulder, and with my other arm, I slam my elbow into his gut. While it's not the same as back home, the Sith reels, and I ignore the sharp pain in my arm. Regardless, my left leg is the next to move as well, reaching out and striking the Sith's shin with enough force that I might have shattered his shin. Thank goodness my instructors always made me break boards for testing. Thanks to those moves, I'm quite a bit closer to the guard, and at least from the surprise, he's staggering.

I reach out and rip a blaster pistol off the Sith's utility belt, one a bit heavier and more powerful than my old weapon. Still, it's of very similar design, and my finger quickly finds the safety – it's already off. Okay then, let's see how this one goes… I quickly move behind the confused Sith guard, firing five times at the furthest Sith.

Before any of those shots can move from the weapon to the Sith, the guard shoots back with several rounds from his rather large and deadly looking blaster rifle. Throwing my human shield to the side, I make the best decision: and a very easy one. Jump!

An instant later, when my armoured chest knocks against the metal deck of the _Leviathan_, I get ready to move again. Better see if that rifle-wielding guy is down… Yes, he is! All right. One down, another out, and that leaves one left! I take a few shots at the remaining guard, who's still busy reaching for his own blaster pistol. By the time I'm back on my feet, that just leaves the guy I kicked around and elbowed. A final shot rectifies that.

Holy shit. I did it!

I nearly leap with joy, but quickly think better of it. What would Darius do in this situation? Or anyone in this kind of RPG-like deal that I've been forced into?

Check the bodies! Starting with the nearest corpse, I see if the Sith has anything of value… I wince at the thought for a moment, even though I've done similar on Tatooine. Okay… No other weapons, an access guard… Another one's got a blaster rifle, a weapon I'm unfamiliar with. Still, it's got a trigger and shoots quite a bit faster. I put my new blaster pistol down, trying the rifle out for size. Heavy, and needs two hands. But this guy seems to be carrying a bit more ammo, and I honestly don't know if the power cells are interchangeable. So the rifle it is.

I holster the blaster pistol and the ammo for it anyways. If I run out of rifle ammunition, I'm not just going to sit on my ass. I'm armed and slightly dangerous, out in the _Leviathan _on my own. I'm doing the NPC mission!

Let's see… The place where I'm at now is a really big hallway, going up towards the elevator, and back towards the various areas of this deck. While the level design seems to be the same, I can't say that he layout is just like the one in KotOR. Besides, I don't really remember the exact map. Still, maybe my knowledge will come in handy. I've got to find HK and Mission… Or the rest of the crew.

I'm not on my own for once. It's a little odd.

More than a little, actually.

Okay, into the prison block, then. I head through the hallway, taken aback by the design – like the designer of this liked hexagons. Something about it… I don't know. And the designer also must've been slightly obsessed with metal. I thought the footsteps were awful in the closet I was stuck in; it's also doing an exceptional job of removing any amount of stealth I could manage.

After a few metres, the hallway splits into three directions. I can't tell which has anything of value, but any of them could lead me towards a small army of Sith soldiers. Or Dark Jedi, which would be infinitely worse. I haven't the faintest clue how to kill one of those…

The left one looks like the best option, then. For no reason other than the fact I don't see any Sith at all. Either way, I'm probably going to have to run through all of them. I pass through the hallway, ignoring an open doorway into a droid repair shop. Nothing in there… Turn another corner… Oh, there's something.

The corridor splits into several chambers, all of which have a purple, glowing force field isolating them from the rest of the ship. Well, all of them but one. I turn another corner, getting closer to the force fields – there was something in the game about a computer hack that could be done. That's my lead, then. Mission also was thrown in here… And if I remember right, so is a room full of battle ready Sith soldiers. I keep my new blaster rifle level, and aimed straight ahead.

My earlier observation is damn right, though. One of the cells is inactive… I step inside, not lowering my weapon. There's no clues here, except for the fact is seems like the force field was shut off from the inside: there's a key card left inside a control panel. If I remember KotOR correctly, that means that Mission was in here after all. And is out running around somewhere. Oh, good. I've got backup.

I nearly jump out of my armour at the sound of a noise not that far away. It isn't footsteps… I slowly head in that direction, keeping an eye in every possible direction. I head back in the direction I came, checking the droid repair bay. Judging by the sounds, someone's in there. If it's one of the Sith – I'm going to have to kill him. Otherwise, it's one of the crew. Unless the _Leviathan_ has become infested with the _Ebon Hawk's _Gizka.

A few steps inside… That's not one of the Sith, unless they've been sporting blue head-tails recently. I smile, surprised at how pleased I am to see Mission again. A friendly face!

"You're dead," I announce, pointing my rifle at Mission. There's not a scope on it, but the design makes it somewhat easy to aim. Down my sights, the Twi'lek jumps up from her work – apparently rummaging through a bin. Amusingly, something from KotOR seems to have held true: the Sith confiscated Mission's armour, meaning I'm seeing a bit more blue than I normally do.

"Sith's blood!" Mission spits, aiming a blaster pistol at me. "There you are… I was hoping I wouldn't have to run through this whole deck finding you before the Sith executed you."

Since I've finally got someone else here besides me, I lower my surprisingly heavy weapon, sighing in relief. My arms need a bloody break after that. "I managed to get out, and get a big gun, too. Did you find HK?"

Mission shakes her head. "No, but there's someone in the prison cells who says he's got a device that could allow us access into the ship computers. I just needed something to interrupt the power cycling systems on the force fields."

"Right…" I mutter. "I figured that was the case. Assuming that this isn't horribly different from the … From the game."

Mission looks at me, putting her blaster pistol on the deck next to her. "I take it you weren't one of the crew then?" In response, I just glare at the Twi'lek. In return, I get an incredibly disapproving look. "Keep your eyes on the door!"

Shit. I swivel in place, and reluctantly raise my rifle. Out the corner of my eye, I try and keep an eye on whatever Mission's up to. "I don't know if you could tell, I was really hoping Darius wouldn't have chosen me for this whole prison break exercise," I admit.

"You just got to deal with it, obviously. Just since you have a creep knowledge of events doesn't mean you're not part of the crew."

"I know how it works," I retort. "But you know that six weeks ago I hadn't even shot a blaster, or hacked a door."

I hear Mission quietly curse, dropping a metal object with a startlingly loud clank. Metal floors! "And I didn't exactly ask for Griff to leave me in the Lower City back on Taris. Just like in Pazaak, use the deck you're given."

Pazaak analogies? What has the world come to? I turn around, but keep the blaster trained on the empty corridor. Mission seems to be done with whatever she was looking for, holding a component of some sort on her hand. For the first time, I just noticed she's been walking around barefoot, avoiding the curse of the metallic flooring.

"We've got a prison break to orchestrate," the Twi'lek informs me with a wink, confidently striding past me, blaster in hand.

"Sounds like an impossible _mission_," I joke, taking the opportunity for a well-placed pun.

Silence. I look over to my fellow crewmate to make sure she knew I just said something remotely amusing… Oh. Judging by that look, I'd say my own death might be imminent, then!

Even if she's acting as if the ship is riddled and infested with Sith soldiers that would love to shoot us both on sight, I'm going to do the complete opposite of Mission: taking it slow and checking every corner for anyone besides us. Luckily, we seem to be alone. Perhaps the Sith don't think they need that many guards. That might be a big mistake. So far, there were only the three I ran into while getting out. Either Mission's killed them all, and disposed of their bodies… Or something's up. Speaking of which… I didn't get rid of the corpses…

"One of these, right?" I ask, once the prison cells are back in view. Looks exactly the same as I last left it… Rather than incur the wrath of Mission again, I figure I ought to plant my feet right here, and stand watch. Like a good little soldier… while Mission does all the complicated stuff. A little ironic, really. Everyone back home always came to me for computer advice… Now I don't even have the faintest clue how to use technology. It's actually a little embarrassing.

Behind the force field stands a Rodian, whose alien face wrinkles upon seeing me. _"You've returned with a hu-man..."_ I raise an eyebrow at the pronunciation. _"I'm in enough trouble as is. If you leave me here, the Sith are going to kill me anyways. Bringing one of them right now won't change my future."_

A shower of sparks shoot from a nearby panel, followed shortly by the disappearance of the energy shield separating us from the Rodian's jail cell. Maybe I should've tried that key card I picked up… Somewhat less dramatic.

"He's with me," Mission says bluntly, brandishing her pistol. "We had a deal. Hand over the ice breaker. Now."

The Rodian stumbles back, reaching into one of his pockets. _"Of course!"_

After taking the computer chip from the prisoner's hand, Mission turns it over a few times, analysing it, but keeping her weapon targeted on the Rodian. From punching people to conducting deals like this… Since this Mission's a bit older, this is a side of the Lower City experience I most definitely didn't see in the games. Heh, or playing Pazaak with Nar Shaddaa rules.

"Now for the rest of the crew," Mission says, "From what I gathered, this wing is solitary confinement. Down the hall should be everyone else."

"Not quite. When we get into their computers, make sure you disable the aft security cells. Darius, Carth and Bastila ought to be there," I reply, trying my hardest to think back to the way the _Leviathan_ was set up in the game. I run a hand along the window on the nearby wall, slightly taken aback by the view of the endless star field.

Almost right after the words leave my mouth, the lighting in the _Leviathan_ shifts to a flashing red – and my hears are immediately assaulted by the harsh sound of alarm klaxons, ascending and descending in pitch. For god's sake, this is worse than the modern day music people at school were always playing!

Mission and I quickly look around, already finding another noise present over the shrill of alarms: rapid footsteps, and quite a few of them.

"What have you done?" Mission frowns, attention now on me.

I raise my hands up in mock defeat, just as confused as she is. Why didn't trip some sort of alarm system did we? I frown, thinking back. They're certainly not going for the whole silent alarm approach… And there's like nobody back here. Which… Oh. Shit. I think they might've found out that I managed to escape. Either that, or HK fucked something up. But, if we're betting who ruined this: my bets are on me. I don't think I'll share that revelation at the moment.

"There he is!" A filtered voice cries out from down the corridors. A number of armoured soldiers race into our field of vision, half a dozen of them, all pointing a surprising number of weapons right at us.

"Well fuck," I curse, throwing my rifle at my feet. I leave the blaster pistol where it's at, but there's no way we can win this, not with our backs against a wall and no magical cover to save us. My blaster rifle is quickly joined by Mission's pistol. I take a few steps back, hands up, until my back hits the wall – the Sith now standing between us and the only way out of this section of the prison block. There's the same window I was just looking out of behind the aluminium men… This is not good at all.

"Any ideas?" I whisper, one hand resting on my holstered pistol.

Mission rolls her eyes. "You might have been more subtle."

"Quiet, backs against the wall," the lead Sith commands, shaking a blaster rifle for emphasis.

Without any other options, I do as we're told, backing up and shutting the hell up. I quickly count seven soldiers, all in silver, except for one in red. A more dangerous Sith, then. Um… Shock trooper maybe? It's not really important. They're all regular soldiers, not Dark Jedi. Well… it kind of looks like one of them has something orange behind it…

I take it back… Whatever is orange, that wouldn't only be behind the Sith – but out the window as well. Kind familiar looking, too….

Oh fuck!

The klaxons seem to be much quieter. The brief sound of shattering glass fills my ears, quickly followed by really, really fast winds. To the point where I'm having trouble staying in one spot! Jesus! I grab onto a metal railing, and for the first time, I feel like the air's getting a little bit thin in here. My ears pop like they do in aeroplanes… And then it all stops. I take a full breath of air, savouring the stuff. Regaining my footing, I look back up, and the window is gone, replaced by a metal sheet. Some sort of safety mechanism then? Wasn't there one in _Revenge of the Sith_? With the hangars? I can't remember, since watching that movie one time was more than enough.

Standing over a crippled Sith, though, is HK-47. His blaster rifle is pointed at the sole surviving individual besides Mission and I, and with a shot from his weapon, HK seems to have destroyed all the Sith with a very timely and impressive entrance.

Beside me Mission gets back on her feet, snatching up her blaster. "I didn't know droids had a sense of dramatic timing. Remind me to have Darius let me look at your programming when this is over."

HK-47 walks towards the two of us, blaster menacingly raised. "Suggestion: You would do well to not suggest such a thing. I have suffered enough at the hands of unskilled meatbags such as yourself." The droid's head swivels, my eyes meeting HK's red glowing photoreceptors. "Or, especially psychotic ones."

Oy! "Sod off, would you?"

"Query: Insanity aside, it would be reasonable to assume that you two meatbags have some plan to massacre the individuals aboard this ship. Except for our allies, of course."

Mission produces the ice breaker, the _Leviathan_ computer hacking tool. "We use this to get everyone out of prison. We get out of here. Simple enough for you, or do we need to pointlessly murder several 'meatbags' on the way."

HK-47, if it were a person, would probably be taken aback. "Statement: While the prospect of terminating hundreds of organic lives is tempting, it would be more efficient to to complete our designated objective first."

* * *

A surprising number of turns and twists, and here we are. Another prison block, with eight cells, all covered with purple force fields. So much for the invisible field they used in _Star Trek_. I know from experience those burn quite badly if they touch you, so I'm a little eager to keep away from them if possible. Inside one of them is Jolee, another holds Canderous, and so on with T3 and Zaalbar.

I wave a hello to the rest of the crew. "Just a minute, mates."

"Yes, would you hurry up?" Jolee chuckles, "There's a nasty draft in here. And the service is incredibly lousy."

"The old man's been threatening to tell us all his old stories," Canderous rolls his eyes.

"It doesn't help that my fellow inmates are disrespectful!" the former Jedi shouts, obviously getting some enjoyment out of this.

Mission, ignoring the banter, steps over the nearby computer terminal, immediately attaching the ice breaker, and setting up the art of a prison break. Where HK is good at killing things, this is obviously Mission's area of expertise. I watch as she swiftly navigates the controls, a master at her craft. A series of lights on the display change to red – and the force fields disengage. Look like that ice breaker works just as well in the game as it does in reality.

"Easy," the Twi'lek smirks, "Unless you'd like to give it a shot."

"No thanks," I mutter, waiting for everyone else to head on out of their cells. As expected, they're all disarmed, but unlike Mission – not unarmoured… And that raises an interesting question of what the Sith were planning to do with Mission – I don't know if I really want the answer to that question, honestly. Fucking Sith.

"Any idea where the Sith have been keeping our weapons?" Canderous asks, eying my and Mission's blaster. "Or anything, for that matter."

Crap – I should've picked up that rifle again and given it to Zaalbar or Canderous. "Find them as we go, I guess. I had to pull this off one of the Sith. Besides, you can always hide behind HK."

"Heh. I'm surprised you managed to get past any of these inept guards," the Mandalorian counters. "We need to get moving. I thought I heard a few alarms go off earlier – there might be more of the Sith coming down to this deck. And we're heavily outnumbered if that happens."

"Suggestion: If you were to allow me, that would be a most opportune event," the assassin droid butts in, offering his usual violent opinions. Talk about a one track mind.

Mission snorts. "From what Stephen and I have found, Darius, Bastila and Carth are neaby…"

"Fairly close to here," I fill in, "Should be just around a corner – we'll have to get them out, and then we'll figure out what to do from there."

"As good a plan as any," Jolee says, "Let's get going. Unless you're determined to keep messing with an old man's head."

Sighing, I take a few steps backwards and turn around, following Mission and HK-47. Judging by the sounds of footsteps over the alarms, seems like we're all headed out. Rather than keeping the corridor level, the same designer I was bashing on earlier seems like he also thought it was a good idea to have the hallway go upwards at an incline. This makes everything not only even more tiring, bringing back memories of my physical training, but also much harder to see what's going on.

Once this idiotic passageway returns to normal, the design seems to leave us with only way one way to go: to the left. HK takes point, being the most powerful out of our group. However, as we continue, this only seems to be an overcautious move: the only thing that seems to have passed by were a number of cleaning droids, beeping and whirring at us. T3, there's a friend for you!

The hall ends at a single door, glowing red around the edges. While every other damn one has usually been made of steel or something, this one is coloured maroon. Seems especially important, which means we're in the right place.

"This is it," I say, stating the obvious.

Mission tinkers very briefly with the door mechanism. "Give me a minute. This one might take me a bit longer. I've gotten through tougher stuff than this, but that doesn't mean I can do miracles."

"Try not to let us get killed by the Sith, girl," Canderous warns, taking Mission's pistol from her.

In response, Zaalbar roars a warning, practically right in the Mandalorian's face. Careful, he might tear your arms right off!

"All right, you lot, calm down," Jolee steps into the escalating conflict. "If you're going to kill each other, you can wait until we get back aboard that fast little ship we've all grown to call home."

I open my mouth to say something, right as the door opens. The ideal timing is all over the place today, isn't it? Except, that time it's been working against me. Along with luck, my arch nemesis. Talk about a major asshole.

"Great job!" Carth's voice shouts from deeper inside the room. "I knew you wouldn't let us down. When we get out of this, I'm going to see all three of you get a medal from the Republic for everything you've done!"

"I didn't do that much," I confess, right as Mission unlocks the prisons, freeing the remaining members of our crew.

"If that's the case, I wouldn't be walking out of this cell," Darius frowns. Oh boy, if you only knew the truth, Darius… One of these days I really ought to tell you. Everything you've done for me, and I've been lying straight to your bloody face the entire bloody time. I'm a fraud, for goodness' sake!

"If I remember the layout of this ship, everyone's equipment should be in a storage chamber just through the next doors. After we grab our stuff, we need to get to the main bridge controls."

"_Why don't we just fly straight out of the hangar bay?" _Zaalbar growls, scratching at his hairy head.

Carth shakes his head, biting his lip. "The bridge is the only place we can open the docking gates of the hangar where they've got the _Ebon Hawk_. We have to open those gates before we can fly out of here."

"We better get moving," Bastila suggests, "I think I can feel Malak's presence approaching, and the Admiral told us that he would be here after Dantooine's destruction. None of us is a match for the Sith Lord, and I don't want to be here when he arrives."

"I'm not afraid of Malak," Darius says, eyes narrowing. "He's a coward, killing people from afar. Taris, and now Dantooine."

"Then you are a fool," Bastila replies, "You're no match for Malak. Surprise and secrecy will serve us best. A small group might have a better chance of sneaking onto the bridge undected while the rest of the crew gets the _Ebon Hawk_ ready for departure."

Bastila's right about one thing – if this plays out like the video game, Darius is going to have his ass completely handed to him. What are we going to do about this…?

"Count me in on getting to the bridge," Carth interjects, "I've got a score to settle with Admiral Karath. If he and I cross paths, I'm going to kill him."

Interestingly, rather than warn Carth about the evils of the Dark Side, Darius just nod with approval. "Bastila and I are going as well. Everyone else, make your way to the _Ebon Hawk_. We've got an added problem, though."

Oh, this doesn't sound good at all.

"The _Leviathan_ is holding position, probably waiting for Malak to show his face. We're not going to be able to get out of here with their interdiction field still enabled. All it takes is that, and we're not going to be able to use hyperdrive at all.

T3-M4 adds something in his usual manner of input: beeps and whistles, much like the classic R2 droid. While I'm still working on trying to figure out how to understand that particular language, someone here does. At least Darius does, I'm not quite sure about everyone else.

"Astromech there has got a point," Mission raises an eyebrow, "We could probably disable that particular system, and maybe slow them down. It's going to take a stop on the engine deck. And some creative thinking."

"This ship is en route to a rendezvous with Darth Malak" Bastila reminds us, "Time is limited."

"I'd hate to split up, but we don't have much choice. Canderous, your group is going to have to be quick. We'll meet back up on the hangar deck. Otherwise, we won't be making out of here anyways."

A little morbid for my personal tastes, there… You're not doing my nerves any favours about this. Even more uncharted territory.

"May the Force be with you," Darius finishes, walking out to grab his gear. Carth and Bastila follow, leaving the same group that just rescued them a few minutes ago. At least we've got numbers, and soon enough we'll have guns. Lots of guns.

"Now that we've been given that job, anyone familiar with interdictor systems?" I ask sarcastically, not happy about being back in the whole field of 'stuff I know absolutely nothing about.'

"Suggestion: To best carry out this objective, I would suggest that we consult a very particular meatbag that may have knowledge about this subject, but is refraining from providing adequate information," HK-47 proposes, and for the first time, he isn't suggesting that we go murder a large number of organics. Which is honestly, a little bit surprising to me.

"I don't think any of the Sith are going to help us out," Jolee coughs, burning a hole through HK's droid logic.

"Yeah, who are you suggesting?" I happily join in. Finally, I've got a chance to get back at HK for all those fucking meatbag jokes. Who's laughing now, HK?

"Statement: You are the meatbag in question."

I'm not laughing now.


	21. Chapter 21: Two Truths and a Lie

Chapter 21: Two Truths and a Lie

"He who does not trust enough, will not be trusted."

~Lao Tzu

**Author's Note: Oh, I left you guys on a cliff-hanger, didn't I? Let's continue on with the **_**Leviathan**_** stuff. **

**If you haven't noticed, I've been updating every other Thursday – and with three tests, four projects, and a paper in these last two weeks, it was a real pain to get this one done in time. Since I skipped meals and sleep so that I wouldn't put this off and get it out on time. (I do have a life... I think.)**

**So, you should leave me a review. Yeah. That would be awesome.**

* * *

A thousand different possibilities are all racing through my head at the speed of light.

And I don't think any of them are any good…

I've been backed into just about the worst metaphorical corner that anyone could have possibly put me into. I haven't faintest clue exactly what HK is talking about – but it seems like Mission isn't the only one that's busting my bubble. There's only so many lies that you can tell before someone figures out that something is screwed up with the crap that spews out of your mouth. Mission managed that one back on Manaan – with evidence. Nobody else seems to have gotten on my case until now. I mean, I don't know that this is what HK's going on about exactly – but I think I've dug myself into a mighty big hole.

Time to do what I do best; find some way to bullshit my way out of this one. If not… I really hope that I don't get punched in the face again. My complexion around my right eye still isn't back to the normal colour – I'm a bit bruised there last time I checked. Not to mention that between close saves and jumping around like some sort of crazy frog, I'm battered, bruised and sore all over the place. More stuff to add to the pile of my many, many woes.

Luckily, Mission comes to my defence, probably thinking that HK might be onto the same thing she was earlier during our search for the Star Forge. "Just because Stephen was with the Sith for a few months on Manaan doesn't mean he's going to be familiar with the inner workings of a Sith warship."

"Explanation: As a droid, I am far more capable of reading the subtleties of organic speech, both verbal and non-verbal," HK-47 clarifies, minimal emotion present in his synthetic voice. "After my earlier encounter with you, more analysis has been performed."

"What are you talking about?" Canderous snorts, partially dismissing the assassin's statements, but I've gotten to know the Mandalorian well enough to know that he's not entirely pushing them aside, either.

None of us have moved an inch after rescuing Darius, Carth and Bastila, and right now everything feels infinitely more tense than before. My heart is pounding like a damn drum, and I feel sick to my stomach. Just like the first day in Debate… I hated public speeches, and I would've sworn I was going to die up there. Now, right here, today… I think I might have duplicated that feeling and found a way to multiple that by over nine thousand.

Regardless, HK keeps on going. "Observation: In layman's terms, he is lying. Whenever my master explains mission parameters, this psychotic meatbag exhibits signs of boredom. However, when certain complications arise, a state of near panic is carefully hidden from a casual observation."

"I'm just nervous. I'm not a bad-ass or a warrior," I quickly reply, "You're jumping to conclusions, assassin droid. Are you a behaviour specialist now?"

I stare into the red photoreceptors, seeing nothing but analytical computers at work. "Statement: Your behaviour has been quite consistent, and when other meatbags seem surprised, you do not. As you have stated, I am no expert on meatbag behaviour, but a great deal of knowledge is included with my assassination protocols. I would state that there is no clear reasoning for this, other than the unlikely notion that you possess knowledge about the future."

"What?" Jolee mutters, raising his eyebrows and looking right at me. Oh, my heartbeat's going even faster…

Canderous pauses for a moment, "I hope you have some sort of explanation, so that we all know that this bloodthirsty machine is broken."

"Addendum: This unit is fully functional. Just before rescuing the flight crew, there were several references shared between these two meatbags about events that had not yet occurred, including the location of prison cells aboard the Sith vessel."

Shit. I am so screwed that it's not even remotely funny or amusing. At this point… I don't know… It might be possible to get out of this sticky situation… Nobody really likes HK that much, except Darius. I've been here longer, but I'm sure that some of the crew have had their doubts about me. I know for sure Canderous did at some point… Probably still does. Even if I slip out of HK's grasp this time, every goddamn second I lie is just further evidence for that stupid, murderous robot! God forbid he let Darius know I'm lying all the time – Revan's real identity is going to be uncovered in a matter of hours. What happens from there?

Mission shakes her head. "That's not it. We found local area maps within the _Leviathan_'s computer database. We probably should have T3 take a look at HK before we keep going."

Not only am I dishonest as all hell, but have I got Mission to do it for me as well?

Ever since Taris, I squeezed my way out of this – and I knew the day would come where I wouldn't be able to anymore. Manaan was the start, but the people I call my friends deserve better than this constant treatment.

They deserve better than me, really. Someone that could actually be useful on this mission, someone who isn't constantly thinking about themselves first.

While T3 beeps a frantic response, I bit my lip, readying the words that are really going to change things for sure. This might not honestly be the best idea, and I know that I'm already reconsidering… No, I've got to do this. Canderous, Jolee, Zaalbar… Don' they deserve to know the truth? I've been trying to keep it to myself, even though it might prove to be useful. I've been worried that it might fuck everything up. Really, I've been fucking up all along. If I tell them the truth now, Darius is going to find out… But maybe, just maybe I might be able to pull off my plan. Take Bastila's place.

"No, HK's right about something," I cut in, teeth clamping hard on my lips. "I… I do know a bit about the future, what's going to happen, more or less. I haven't said anything before now…" Fucking shit. I honestly don't think this is going to be a good idea. But my foot is in the door, it's time to step into the next room, the next chapter of this story that's unfolding in front of me.

"_Haven't some of the Jedi done that?" _Zaalbar growls, finally contributing to the conversation. Strong and silent. Sounds much better than me bumbling about like a true ass.

Jolee shakes his head. "It depends, but you aren't Force sensitive. At least, it doesn't look that way. If you were, the Jedi would have probably jumped on the chance to add another person to their ranks."

"So you're just getting knowledge from your ex-Sith employers, then?" Canderous sneers.

"I've seen all of this before!" I shout, tired of people ganging up on me. "In a fucking video game! Taris, the _Ebon Hawk_, the goddamn Star Maps! All of you were in it!"

"Statement: I have my doubts about this testimonal, psychotic meatbag. While you appear to be speaking truthfully, the likelihood that no other organic has stumbled upon such a story is unlikely. Had these events had already been transcribed by any other group of meatbags, there would have been some record of it recently."

Oh, HK, you're not making your case with me at all, you're just pissing me off! "Check your records for me, then, would you? I'm not from this universe. I played that game seven years ago, and less than two months ago – I wound up on Taris! With no explanation at all. That's the truth, the one that I've been hiding ever since. From everyone."

The Mandalorian doesn't seem to really believe me. "You expect us to believe that one, then?"

"He's telling the truth," Mission sighs, "I found out on Manaan – Stephen doesn't exist in the Sith files there. Or anywhere, for that matter. According to every single piece of information I can find says that he just showed up six weeks ago."

"That's why we talked on Tatooine, isn't it?" Jolee whispers. Finally, someone who isn't ready to jump down my throat at the first notice. Maybe the years really do make us wiser – or more likely to agree with me. Sounds good to me either way, to be completely honest.

"Right," I confirm, "You want, proof, Canderous? I knew about Jagi, about Althir, before we ran into him on Dantooine. And I sure know about Malachor V, where Revan killed Mandalore and the Mass Shadow Generator ripped all the ships to hell."

"You could've found that out from anywhere," Canderous says, frowning. "Everyone knows how my people lost in the final days of the war."

"Does everyone know the Malachor is a taboo world to you?" I counter, falling back on the vast expanse of knowledge that KotOR 2 brought to me all those years ago. "Or how the new Mandalore was always chosen because of a helmet… and Revan simply took it and hid it to prevent another Mandalore from rising up and threatening the Republic?"

I turn to look Canderous dead in the eye. "I'm sorry, I should've told you earlier, I know that. I knew that Taris was going to get burned, why do you think I tried so hard to get on the _Ebon Hawk_, even though I don't have any useful talents or skills?"

"_You knew Taris was going to be destroyed?_" Zaalbar asks in his own language, my translator doing its job almost instantly.

I nod, "And I knew about Chuundar, and your father. And I know that the Sith just got through making Dantooine look like a repeat of Taris."

"You didn't mention that," Mission frowns.

"That's why I practically begged Bastila to let me talk to the Jedi Council!" I point out, remembering the unusual meeting between myself and the Jedi. "I thought that maybe I could do some good."

"This is insane," Canderous bluntly replies.

Tell me about it. I've been thinking that for the past six bloody weeks. "You don't have to believe me, but that's the truth, mate. I know that it's insane… But I'm not lying. Not anymore."

I stare at HK-47 this time, the droid that forced my hand into telling the truth for once. The machine's head moves from side to side, but it finally speaks up once more. "Query: If this is the case, would your supposed knowledge include the inner workings of a Sith warship?"

"No," I sigh, "In the game… You played as Darius, Carth and Bastila. I never even knew that we had to shut down the interdiction system. Honestly, I found out when you all did. But we're going to have to move really damn fast."

"We're going to have to be to get to the _Hawk_ in time," Canderous says, and I can't tell what tone that was in… Sure reminds me of someone talking to a bug, a lower form of life. I might be back to square one with the Mandalorian, and maybe worse than that. Out of everyone here, he seems to not be so happy with me. With Zaalbar and Jolee being a bit more quiet and reserved, I can't say I'm surprised. I'm going to have to do some clever talking to get on everyone's good side again…

Not to mention, wait until Darius finds out. Oh, goodie. If I go through with the plan… I might not even have to worry about that. Assuming that it happens, and I'm successful.

"Not just that," I reply, breaking my train of thought, "Darth Malak is on the way. And Darius' group is going to run into them. Things are going to get heavy."

"Malak?" Jolee replies, "He's on his way right now?"

"That's why we've got to move quickly!" I argue, getting a bit impatient. "The sooner we do this, the better."

Canderous blinks, grabbing his blaster rifle from a nearby locker. "I'd have to agree with you, then. This conversation will have to be continued later. If it were up to me, though, I'd be leaving you behind."

The rest of the crew follows the example set forth by the Mandalorian, grabbing blasters and armour from the lockers. Or a lightsaber, in Jolee's case. While I've got everything I need, I can't help but see my old gun in there, as crappy as ever. Talk about a lower end model. Regardless, I take it, clipping it onto my belt along with the other pistol. I take a final look inside, and I don't see anything of mine there. Okay, that just means that the Sith haven't dug through my locker aboard the _Ebon Hawk_. Yet. My phone, my old wallet… They're in there. Better not have those snatched up. Of all people that need to know the truth, the Sith Empire isn't high on my list.

"So, we head down to the engineering deck and tear their systems a new one?" Mission asks, pulling her armour vest over her chest with a tug.

Canderous nods, slapping his own armour on. "Get in, get out. We'll be at the _Ebon Hawk_ long before the Jedi show up." The Mandalorian places a meaty hand on my silver armour, stopping me dead, and his blaster rifle is menacingly aimed at my gut.

"I promise I'll explain more later," I mutter, cowering under the gaze of Canderous.

The blaster rifle taps against my armoured chest. "See that you do. Make any move against us, and I don't care what you did on Dantooine with Jagi… I'll shoot you myself."

Let's go break the _Leviathan_, and get back to the _Ebon Hawk_ in time for some cake. And after that, I've got quite a mess that I've got to sort out.

* * *

Getting to the elevator was actually pretty easy. We only ran into a single Sith patrol, and with the element of surprise… Well, it was pretty easy to get rid of those two. Mission, Canderous, T3, HK and I are all using ranged weapons, though HK's also got that blasted flamethrower he's so happy to use. The smell from that thing is nothing that I'd like to write home about… Zaalbar and Jolee make up the close fighters here – so we've got a pretty well rounded group then. Mission should be able to get us around the ship's security, along with T3… Let's go trash up this ship!

In front of me, Canderous and Zaalbar step into the circular elevator, the same one that took me from the hangar to here just an hour or so ago. Right when I'm about to follow suit, a quick series of beeps and whistles comes from behind me, and something aggressively slams into my legs. I turn my head, finding that T3 was the one that decided the most logical thing to do at the moment was to aggressively attack me. By running into me. Piss sake, even the droids are coming after me.

"I've got enough problems without you hitting me," I scowl, looking down at the astromech. In response, the damn thing only makes more noise, which my translator isn't able to pick up on.

I shrug, realising that Mission and Jolee are giving me a quizzical look. Let's just get in this elevator, and get this whole ordeal over with then. I start to turn back, and catch some movement in the corner of my eye. Oh, shit. I was complaining about this being too easy? Well, looks like someone heard that and decided that no, things shouldn't be that easy – they should be out to make me suffer in the most diverse number of ways possible.

"Not this again!" Jolee groans, apparently following my gaze. With a _snap-hiss_, his lightsaber leaps from the metal hilt. I grab my own pistol from my belt, taking more than a few steps backwards into the elevator.

At the very least, we've got high ground since the corridor heading to the elevator ramps up. The footsteps of our approaching enemies quickly come apparent, but since we're all crowded in and around the elevator, the damn ramped hallway means we can't see the Sith at all. Oh, good. The thundering and stamping comes to a sudden stop, only leaving us with a few creaking sounds and far off sounds of fans. I quickly glance at the rest of the group, thrown off by the sudden change in tone. If every movie, television show and video game have taught me anything – it's that something big is going to happen. All we need now is for someone to say that this is too quiet, or cut away to somewhere else that's even quieter.

The creeping silence is broken by a rather loud _clank_, which repeats a few times, getting quieter but startlingly closer every time. Keeping my blaster pistol aimed forward, I take a look down – and see a little orange sphere in our midst. Oh, shit!

"Grenade!" Canderous roars, the older man leaping as far into the elevator as possible. There's not enough time for me to get in there, since I'm still in the corridor… I leap forward once more, throwing myself onto the _Leviathan_'s deck – for the second time today. Right after, the relative quietness is replaced about a deafening explosion.

Once the heat passes, I leap up and grab my blaster pistol – and realise that the back of my leg really, really hurts. I bend my head around to see what the hell happened – and it's on fire! I'm on fire! No, no no! Don't do that! I pat the small flame until it's gone, leaving a bit of blackened skin exposed to the elements. I'm going to need replacement limbs at this rate. Replacement… everything.

I'm right at the point where the floor changes from a flat plane to a pretty steep incline, which means I can see the dozen or so Sith that just tossed a small grenade in our direction – including the fact that they seem to be equipped with heavier weapons than normal. Stuff that'll blow us up pretty damn quick. I see the Sith take their internal security seriously, as opposed to most other Sci-Fi villains. Relatively speaking.

Jolee and T3 are near me, while HK, Mission, Zaalbar and Canderous took shelter inside the elevator. The grenade did exactly what the Sith intended – split our group up so they can pick us off and bring us to the Admiral. Or kill us. Either one would probably do for them. Right away, I take a few shots at the nearest Sith, before any of them start trying to blow us all up. In turn, blaster-fire whizzes towards us.

A few shots head back towards the Sith, courtesy of Jolee's weapon. T3 quickly moves back towards the elevator, as do I. Both of us stay behind the effective range of the old man's lightsaber, and it's only a few feet back to the damned lift. As quickly as possible, almost stumbling over the astromech droid that ran into me just a few minutes ago.

"Twi'lek, you better get this lift going. Now," Canderous orders, shooting his massive blaster rifle at the approaching Sith soldiers.

Wordlessly, Mission tears off a panel near the controls, exposing dozens of wires and components. A couple of sparks accompany the removal of the metal sheet, but the Twi'lek quickly gets to work, T3 joining in as well, extending a mechanical limb from its chassis.

"Can't we just push the button to go down?" I frown, moving away from blaster fire, hiding inside the lift.

I stick an arm out of cover, blindly firing a few shots. "Yeah? And what happens when they call it back up to the prison block?" Canderous rhetorically asks, making me even more stupid than normal. He's pretty good at that, then. Not that I frequently find myself feeling incredibly stupid, but…

One of the Sith must've got a good shot inside – a few shots fly into the lift, burning a few black burn marks only a foot or so from where I'm hiding. The sound of the approaching soldiers is getting louder, as is the intensity of the weapons fire they've been using is ramping up as well. I take a peek into the corridor, and the Sith I spotted earlier are all just outside, forming a lovely silver and red wall that's trapping us inside.

"_Mission?_" Zaalbar growls, the Wookiee switching from a vibroblade to one of those bowcasters, a laser crossbow. Why does everyone have a cooler weapon than I do? This is an outrage! While he's doing that, I replace the power cell in my blaster, desperately shooting at the Sith without moving out of cover. I'm probably not hitting anyone, but screw it! If anything, we've got to keep them from getting in here.

Zaalbar's answer doesn't come in the form of any immediate response from Mission, instead the large metal doors slam shut with a frightening amount of force, and I'm right away reminded of the fact that I can't stand lifts at all. The shaking, the way it feels like they're going to kill you in an instant… Back home, I even took the stairs every chance I could get! I hated the trip to and from the Shadowlands – the reason why is pretty much flashing before my eyes.

The lift doesn't move up or down, instead it rockets _backwards_, away from the Sith infested hallway. With a ship this big, okay, we're using the same design as Willie Wonka… The downside to this, though, is that either the Sith are impatient, or Mission spiked up the speed on this metal deathtrap. It's awful, enough that I can feel myself being pushed into the very same slab of wall that I was hiding behind a few second ago.

I hate lifts… so much.

As awfully as it began, the fucking death trap comes to a stop, lurching me forward a good foot. At least this thing has two things running for it: it's pretty large for an elevator, and it isn't going up or down. That's a small victory that I'm perfectly happy with. I take a deep breath, pretty much overjoyed. We stopped!

While I'm busy enjoying my change of luck, the lift moves again. Upwards, and fast. T3 does an equivalent of crying out, much like the astromech from the _Star Wars_ movies it was based on, and I do the same. This of course, just makes opening my mouth even more uncomfortable.

I'm going to die, right here.

When it ends a few hours later, I'm actually surprised I'm still alive. Feeling weak and ill, I push myself back up. I'm _never_ going in another lift in my life. Stairs don't do that! I'm probably green or pale, but I try my best to give Mission a nasty look.

"Would you rather have got in a shooting match with the Sith?" the Twi'lek raises an eyebrow.

I sigh, since I pretty much guessed she was responsible for that. "That wasn't my idea of fun!"

Mission chuckles, apparently finding some amusement from that whole stunt. Canderous, though, collects himself, and aims his weapon at the closed doors, as if waiting for the instant they're going to open. Not that bad of an idea, so I produce my own blaster pistol and do the same, nodding to Canderous – an unspoken message that I'm ready to shoot someone right away. I'm still not feeling so great about shooting people… But with the Sith it is a bit easier, since they're all faceless soldiers, all ready to kill us. I just need to not think about things too much. Always a problem.

My hand clamps on the grip of the blaster pistol, finger just above the trigger, ready to pull the thing on a moment's notice. The durasteel doors slide open – and there's nothing there. Just a tight, narrow hall, with pipes and tubes running along the ceiling. Lovely, I see the interior decorators haven't visited this deck either. Or they don't employ any with the Sith. Might not be that bad of a job.

Canderous shrugs, lowering his blaster. "Alright, do you have any idea where we're going to find the interdiction systems?"

"No," I quickly answer, "I only know what's going on with Darius, Bastila and Carth. They're going to be running into Admiral Karath at some point, and if everything goes well… He's going to die."

The Mandalorian shoots me a disapproving look. "Right… Anything else?"

Figuring it's a lost cause, I just shrug, stepping out of the lift. I'm not spending another goddamn second in that machine, because it's going to be the death of me. I'm not a particularly tall person, a few inches shorter than Canderous, but I have to duck underneath a few of the large pipes above. I smack my head against one, hearing a loud clank from my head and a bit of sloshing sounds from inside the pipe. Steam is hissing out a bit further down the length of the thing, and it's hot to the touch. If we were looking for engineering or important systems, this would probably be it.

"When I hacked the elevator, I sent it to the engineering deck. The schematics I downloaded early were only for the cell block, and Stephen doesn't know where we're going…" Mission starts, following me out of the lift. She runs a hand along a tube, quickly drawing back the instant she realises it's actually really hot.

Jolee follows suit. "Humph. Would we actually depend on Stephen's supposed knowledge? Erm… No offence."

Figures. I thought Jolee was at least on my side, but apparently not. I make my point by sighing loudly again.

Mission walks past me, and turns to face the rest of the group. "Believe it or not, I trust Stephen." The Twi'lek resumes heading deeper into the ship, making all of us follow her lead. "I told the computer to send us to a sub-level of this ship, near the engineering deck. That's why there aren't any patrols out here. If we can find a power plant or something, I should be able to shut it down for quite a while. You'd be surprised what a talented hacker can do to a Sith ship."

"Query: Without limited intelligence, it may be surprisingly difficult to pinpoint a critical system on this level of the Sith warship." HK kindly informs Mission, the droid looking comically ridiculous bent over to avoid hitting the pipes above. I smirk, seeing tat Canderous is having to duck even more than I am.

"I wouldn't count on that," Jolee adds, "These conduits above us are carrying hot water to the rest of the ship. At the very least, tracing these back will lead us to a power supply, and eventually the main reactor."

"How do we know which way these things are going?" I frown, smacking a pipe for good measure, then instantly regretting it upon nearly burning my hand. The heat in here is already starting to get to me, but I can't afford to take any of my armour off. Sadly.

Jolee smiles, pointing upwards. For the first time, I actually take a good look at everything above us. It's darker than the prison block, but HK helpfully shines a bright light – revealing the fact that there are little red arrows present on the largest pipe – the scolding hot one, pointing away from the lift. Ah, that would most certainly be the way to go. Too bad I don't have a mini-map!

"Some plan… until we've got a better one, that is. No input, there?" The Mandalorian asks me, and I refrain from getting involved with this anymore. I'm going to have work on that later. I might have turned the crew against me, and I honestly don't feel any better about my guilt when I was lying to all of them.

Silently, I follow the corridor around a corner, and I nearly stop dead once I do so. The several metres we covered this far were cramped, dark and narrow, but now it's a large open area, with computers and machinery all over the place. Some of it is pulsing… For lack of a better term.

"I think we found something," I mutter, stepping into the much larger room, and onto a metal catwalk. I look down, and realise that the size of this place goes down another twenty feet. There aren't any other rooms, just a series of more walkways, not even with a rail! Don't look down, Stephen…

The catwalk violently shakes, Mission hoping down next to me. The rest of the group quickly follows, though getting T3 down was a bit interesting… I'm not entirely certain why they didn't strap rockets or jets onto that droid.

"Huh…" Mission mutters, taking a good look around us. "I've never been on a large starship, but from what I've seen, this might be their main reactor. Or a maintenance area for a few of the smaller reactors. There should be a main computer nearby that'll tell us more."

I don't say anything since I really wouldn't want anyone to make jabs at my newly revealed past. I slowly walk along the catwalk, trying not to panic. With Canderous, Zaalbar and HK trampling about, this isn't entirely stable. We head about ten metres down, make a few turns, and find ourselves near a large piece of silver machinery, along with a computer interface attached to it. Right away, Mission gets to work.

"Anything useful?" Canderous asks, stepping closer to the Twi'lek to observe her work with the computer terminal. Meanwhile, HK and I keep an eye on all possible entrances, weapons ready for any Sith soldiers or technicians.

Mission shakes her head. "T3, get over here. I need you over here."

"What happened to a good slicer?" Jolee smirks.

"The Twi'lek needs the droid because it's going to be a lot harder for her to use the terminal," Canderous points out, "The ship's interdiction system -."

"The instant we start to disable it, artificial gravity on this whole deck is going to go," Mission interrupts, turning away from the computer console. For the first time aboard the _Leviathan_, I notice that she looks worried – which isn't making me feel any better about this.

Jolee, normally pretty cheerful, seems similarly affected. "That doesn't sound like the best idea I've ever heard. If any of the Sith find us down here, they're going to cut us to pieces."

"Statement: Disabling artificial gravity, as well as other key systems will most likely alert meatbags that we are attempting to sabotage their vessel from this location."

I glance at HK. "Yeah, and you might be cool with the zero-gravity, space shit… But I'm not."

For whatever reason, Canderous finds this a little amusing. "Every Mandalorian gets at least some zero-g experience. The general reaction the first time is to throw up your past meal."

"Great," I groan, feeling ill already. T3 beeps twice, extending a robot arm into the computer terminal. Heh, R2-D2 indeed.

"I don't really like it either," Mission admits, whipping out her blaster pistol. "But we don't have any other choice at the moment. T3, I've set up a series of commands. Let's start there."

I am really not feeling good about this one. Our silver astromech droid whistles in a low tone, droid arm moving back and forth. I take a look one the computer screen, seeing thousands of images and screens fly by at an incredible rate. Damn, as great as Mission is at this, someone might be a bit better. If I ever talk to HK again, this might be another case in his argument of why droids are much better than organics.

"How long is this going to take?" Jolee asks, tossing his deactivated lightsaber between his hands.

Mission doesn't answer immediately, but after a few seconds finally does so. "I'm not entirely sure. Last time I've checked, I haven't sliced into many Sith engineering computers. I'd say at least five or six minutes."

Fuck. This day is honestly getting no better, is it? I can't even have that, right?

Our astromech droid makes a long series of noises, disk-shaped head turning to face all of us. Whatever it just said, I'd hazard a guess that the artificial gravity should be going off just about now, and we can start taking down the interdictor field.

Right away, the alarms engage, and the klaxons blare at full volume, enough that I question whether or not I'll be able to hear anything ever again. But much, much worse, is the sudden change in gravity. My insides shift oddly, my stomach feels like it's suspended in liquid. Not long after, the feeling of heartburn returns for the first time in eight years. I always wondered what zero-gravity felt like, and it's kind of like being underwater, without the water… I guess. I'm just barely floating away from the catwalk – and I really wish that there was a handrail.

Who designed this ship, exactly? I have serious issues to throw on their plate.

The rest of the crew seems to be fairing just as well; Mission is… floating near T3, grabbing the computer terminal so that she doesn't fly off. HK and T3 are planted still – much to my own surprise. Canderous is busy tinkering with one of his shiny boots, and right away the small gap between his shoe and the floor reduces to zero. Ah, that's why the droids aren't flying off either: magnetic boots! Jolee apparently doesn't have those, and his lightsaber is already ignited.

Damn, Canderous was not kidding. I might be sick.

Above us, and to the right, a door opens on yet another walkway. Three Sith officers walk in, weapons drawn. One of them cries out, and this whole thing starts all over again. Let's do this.

"Optimal accuracy ratio achieved!" HK exclaims, shooting one of the Sith right between the eyes. HK is really trying to prove that droids are superior, isn't he?

Not thinking, I yank the trigger of my weapon, firing once at the next Sith officer. Much to my surprise, I fly backwards, in the exact opposite path. Rapidly, I really ought to add. I hit a metal container behind me, spinning about. Damn – that's really going to complicate things, isn't it? I think back to my Physics classes in High School: "Every reaction has an equal and opposite reaction." Unless they happen to either be made of metal or have magnetic boots.

I grab a hold of the container, ignoring the heat from the object on my palms. Carefully as I can manage, I shimmy around the metallic cylinder, using it as cover. Okay, I'm learning, and I'm using knowledge from all those cover based shooters I played back home. Why don't I have chest high walls available to me!

I wrap an arm around the container, wincing slightly thanks to the stupid heat. Okay, if I hang onto this… I take a shot at the two remaining Sith soldiers, but HK and Zaalbar seem to get rid of them well enough without my assistance. I push myself away from the container, just enough so that I stay relatively in place. Okay, this is completely insane, I'm not going to lie.

"_How much longer?_" Zaalbar howls, the Wookiee grasping onto the same catwalk the Sith officers, "_They're going to be sending more soon!_"

"No kidding!" I shout back, still floating around. What would really suck, though, is if the gravity turned back on… I'm not over a catwalk at the moment. Long fall… Maybe seventy feet? There's some sort of energy or plasma running in a pipe beneath me, and not much in between.

Mission looks up from the computer display, "Three minutes?"

Three minutes, and then we're headed down to the hangar bay. From there, it's just minutes away from escaping the _Leviathan_ and continuing our journey to find the Star Maps. With any luck, my presence here and my … precognition should be enough to see that Bastila isn't captured. She and I aren't on the best of terms, but I've thought this through quite a bit… Even more so after we started playing nice… I wouldn't count Bastila as one of my best friends, but I don't want to leave her at the hands of Malak, to get tortured and twisted and turned against the man she loves. Or, at least I think she loves him.

I can't say I've thought too much about how to do this though. Interfere with the Malak duel maybe? Since everyone else knows my past, maybe I could get them in on it? And I'm also starting to doubt if I'd come out of that kind of confrontation alive…

"Alert: Additional meatbags are en route, approximately twenty or thirty foot-soldiers," HK observes, still practically immobile. The assassin droid is doing what he does best, though, blaster rifle at the ready. I've seen that this… machine can do quite a bit more damage than suggested in the game. I wish that I could have HK on my side more often.

Across the other side of the chamber, the Sith pour in, and these ones seem a bit more adjusted to zero-gravity, moving much more naturally than the Sith officers that we just killed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Canderous toss two grenades in the direction of the Sith, the spheres flying through the air like birds – without gravity acting on them. Both explode right as the Sith head inside, killing a few of them and scattering the others from the shockwave. That's a good start. I join in, shooting several times. With each shot, I head further away from the Sith, eventually hitting the wall furthest away from the Sith.

One of the Sith notices me, and I can hear him shout "Blast him!" How irritatingly clichéd. There's a ton of machinery beneath me… Here goes nothing.

I raise my arm, shooting a half dozen blaster bolts at the ceiling. In turn, I rocket downwards, as if gravity had been switched back on. Alright… Now I'm surrounded by engineering equipment on almost all sides. It's almost like fighting normally! I take three shots at the Sith, then duck behind a whirring device. Not sure what it does, but it seems to take blaster shots fairly well.

Once the blaster fire dies down, I kick myself off the floor, surprised by how far up it takes me. Okay… I'm back to somewhere around normal level, desperately trying not to spin around in circles. Oh… too late. I stick an arm out in an effort to stop. It doesn't work exactly, but I slow down. Enough to see that I'm a few metres away from Mission and T3. Trying to imagine I'm swimming, I try my best to make my way over there. HK, Zaalbar, Jolee and Canderous seem to be handling the Sith fairly well… I'm not that useful with them around apparently. Exactly why I might be able to use them to help Bastila…

Shit, don't think about that!

"I hate this, by the way," I kindly inform Mission, trying my best to ignore the urge to throw up my breakfast.

"I don't even like space travel," Mission mutters, only using one hand on her pistol to stay in place. "This is even worse."

I've trusted Mission this far, more than anyone else… So I might as well come out and say what I'm thinking. I'm still going to keep things to myself, of course, but it might be good to finally start telling people what I'm actually thinking… Especially this.

"Is this good time to ask you a question?"

"No," Mission replies, "But knowing you, you're going to ask me anyways. Right now, of all times."

That's right! "I'm thinking about all of this…" Oh, I'll just cut to the chase! "Bastila's going to get captured. On this ship."

Now I've got Mission's full attention. "You haven't mentioned that before now. What do you mean, are the Sith going to outnumber her like the Vulkars?"

"Malak," I say simply. "They're going to run into him, and Bastila's going to hold Malak off so Darius and Carth can escape."

A blaster bolt ricochets off a wall, nearly hitting me in the head. I quickly move to the side, spinning slightly. I take another shot at the Sith, hitting one of them with a lucky shot. The now deceased soldier hits the wall, bouncing off in a grim image that I won't forget any time soon.

"You're thinking of taking her place," Mission frowns. I just sadly nod, she knows that Malak will probably kill me. "Why?"

I pause, realising that I really haven't told Mission a lot of the details surrounding this thought that's been running through my head for the past week. I'm not sure if it's my place to say that Darius is Revan… Jolee said it wasn't his job to tell Darius that… Even though we're in different situations… Damn, I don't know. And I also haven't mentioned the possibility that Darius could go evil, and kill most of the crew. Including Mission. "If I stop it… It would mean that… I might be saving quite a few lives."

Mission snorts with disapproval. "What happened in the game? With Bastila?"

"She joined Malak. And Darius might save her… Or join her. If he does, it's not good news."

"So you want to eliminate that choice. Rather than let Darius make his own choice."

I open my mouth, and stop. I don't know what to say. I've got maybe ten or so minutes to keep thinking… Maybe at the very least I can enlist Mission's help in this, but she's got a point. Normally she does.

T3 interrupts our brief conversation, frantically saying something in the manner in which the droid normally speaks. I glance at the computer terminal, and it seems like whatever Mission and T3-M4 set up has done the trick. About half the equipment comes to a grinding halt, but the artificial gravity is still deactivated.

"We're getting out of here!" Canderous bellows, slowly stepping back towards the service corridor.

Flying through the air as gracefully as a wounded penguin, I follow Canderous, HK and T3 back towards the lift. Oh, shit… the lift.

No!

* * *

Without the impending threat of the Sith, the elevator was set to play out my childhood fears. Still, I had my eyes shut the entire time. Jammed, as tight as I could manage. I wouldn't be surprised at all if someone makes fun of me later, but screw it. I swear that after this, I will never step foot in a lift again.

The first section of the hangar deck was equally uneventful. With the exception of a few soldiers, most of which were dispatched using HK's stealthy killing tactics. Frightening, to be sure. We made it up one of those ridiculous ramped hallways, and fought through a control room, overlooking the _Ebon Hawk_, the same hangar deck on which we were forced off our ship.

Beside me, Canderous thumbs his wrist communicator. "Ordo to Rayner. We're at the _Ebon Hawk_, and like we figured… It's under heavy guard. But don't worry. We've got it all figured out."

Over the line, I can barely hear Darius reply. "Good. We're departing the Bridge. ETA: Nine minutes."

"_That's not a lot of time_," Zaalbar points out, itching his massive head.

Canderous chuckles. "Twi'lek… Still confident about your ability to interfere with the ship's computers?"

"Depends on what you're planning," Mission replies, though judging by the smirk on her face, I think she's got something up her sleeves. "If it involved temporarily deactivating the mag-locks on the hangar force field…"

Jolee folds his arms over his chest. "Fill an old man in, would you?"

"I've tinkered with quite a few Bek hangars before the quarantine. If we shut down the force fields for a moment, the decompression will suck the Sith soldiers right out of the hangar, but with the landing gears in place, the _Ebon Hawk_ won't be going anywhere."

"Blown out," I quickly correct. Everyone glares at me, so I figure it's a bit better to stay quiet.

"Then do it," Canderous chuckles, "It might not be the most honourable victory, but there are far too many guards to remove in under nine minutes."

I gaze out the window, trying to count how many small, silver soldiers are present on the hangar deck. At least forty. In one single move, we'll wipe out all of them. They won't even have the … courtesy of knowing that we're going to kill them. Someone once said that the most sure way to kill someone was to shoot them in the back, but that just seems even worse than facing them straight up in combat.

Oh, goodness, I'm sounding like a Klingon or a Mandalorian.

The light shifts slightly, enough that I can see my reflection superimposed over the image of the _Hawk_ and the hangar deck. What am I going to do about Bastila? With all my knowledge, do I have the right to do that? Or am I supposed to sit back, see this all play out as an observer. If that's the case, I shouldn't have gotten into all this. And if I carry through… I might be dead. Selena claims that there might be a way back home someday, but I don't know if I want that anymore. And I don't belong here, either. Maybe this would be for the best… But, as much as I don't fit in, there's always Mission…

"You've got something on your mind, hmmm?" Jolee's voice breaks my somewhat depressing train of thought.

I finally look away from the window, weakly smiling in the direction of the former Jedi padawan. "It's nothing," I lie, turning back.

In the background of my reflection, I can see everyone else frantically at work on the hangar deck controls. At least the artificial gravity won't be going haywire anytime soon. If they do, I'm going to be really cross.

"Now, even I can tell that's not the case," Jolee observes, half-joking. "I wouldn't normally say you're troubled by killing half the crew of this ship, but I think that might be part of the problem.."

"What gave you that impression?" I sigh, checking behind me to see the progress made by the remainder of the crew.

"Maybe some hints about your suspected history might've shed a bit of light."

I take a long breath of air. "Where I'm from, most people don't use blasters or kill dozens of soldiers. Not without joining the military. Back on Earth, there was no epic quest for the Star Forge. Just a game. A game that glamorised some of the harsh realities of the world."

I stare at the older man right in the eyes, continuing. "My life was so… boring. I liked playing a game, but I never asked to live it."

"I don't think anyone picks their life," Jolee points out. "Your past is far-fetched, I'll admit it… Regardless of that, regardless of this trip so far, you're still in control of your life. While you're on this mission, though, killing is going to be unavoidable."

"Even the Jedi kill," I frown. "But it's not important. Don't worry about me… Right now, anyways. I'm sure you, and everyone else, have a thousand questions about me."

"I might," Jolee admits. "Another time, perhaps."

"Venting complete," Mission grimly announces behind me, and I look back out, seeing a now clear hangar deck. It worked. Easy…

I quietly fall in line with the rest of the group, taking another inclined hall, this one travelling downwards and lined with red lights. After a few familiar looking doors, we're right on the hangar deck, the very same open area where we started this whole _Leviathan_ thing. Our ship is quite literally only a few feet away. Time is running out. I shrug in Mission's direction, still uncertain of what I'm doing.

Caught up in my thoughts, I barely even notice that we somehow covered the distance between the door and the _Ebon Hawk_, and that HK and T3 already boarded the ship. HK's probably making sure we don't have any stowaways. Rather than head up the ramp, I lean against the ship's hull, and Mission does the same. We're both completely silent as everyone else follows the droids. Canderous looks a little confused, but heads inside anyways.

"You're thinking about going back. For Bastila's sake," Mission knowingly states. There's something so absolute about the way she says it…

Realising what I might be doing, I fight back tears. God, I can't believe I'm going to cry. Shit. To avoid Mission's eyes, I glance over my shoulder, back into the window I was looking through earlier. Much to my surprise, I see four figures. Three on one side, and across from them – a tall figure in red. Malak. Not in the exact same place as in the game… but can I get up there in time?

"I've got to do this," I murmur, already moving back in the direction we came.

Mission is practically jogging to catch up. "You won't make it up there in time, and Malak's going to kill you. If Bastila does get captured – she'll live."

"That's not the problem!" I turn around, quickly going on the defensive. "I ended up here for a reason right?"

"I can't let you do this," Mission whispers. "You're going to kill yourself."

Not even thinking, I snap back. "Big loss."

The next thing I feel is a heavy smack of a blaster pistol against my head, sending me sprawling. The world turns from a crisp metal interior of the _Leviathan_ to a fuzzy grey mess. It takes me a second to realise what just happened. I cough several times, forcing air into my lungs. Every time, things become slightly sharper. In what seems to be an all too familiar image, I look up to see Mission standing above me.

* * *

**Review please! This one was so much harder to write – as I mentioned above, I really struggled to find time.**


	22. Chapter 22: Calm Before The Storm

Chapter 22: Calm Before The Storm

"Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends."

~Shirley MacLaine

**Author's Note: Barely had time to squeeze this one out. Thanks for all the reviews so far, I remember being surprised when this had fifty reviews… Now it's got three hundred? You guys are awesome. Awesome.**

**I know I said these are supposed to come out every other Thursday. One day late is alright, yes? It's only a few hours late...**

* * *

I'm fighting off the urge to close my eyes, and fall asleep. Sounds really nice right about now. Something doesn't seem right… It sure doesn't smell like somewhere to take a nap, and if I'm not mistaken, I'm face-down on a metal panel. Huh. I know that stuff is pretty strange in the universe that I'm in right now – but damn. Besides, I can't ever get sleep when my head is throbbing, and my back hurts an unbelievable amount. Oh, dear.

Okay, then… I've got to open my eyes up. Did I fall asleep and fall onto a brown metal floor? I can hear the slightly familiar hum of the _Ebon Hawk_'s engines… The _Ebon Hawk_! How the fuck did I end up here? I thought I was on the _Leviathan_, getting ready to implement my rather stupid plan… And Mission hit me! God damnit, that would explain why face hurts, and if went sprawling, hence by back pain. Ah, this is so pleasant. It doesn't really explain how I ended up here, versus the _Leviathan_'s hangar deck.

I shove myself off the deck, realising I'm right beside the loading ramp of the ship, which is still open. Outside seems to be a brightly lit silver room – the exact same hangar deck I remember being on just a second ago. Unless I'm hallucinating and dreaming. Which I guess is possible. Anything's possible in the Old Republic, right?

Blinking a few times, I take a look around the room, and I see both Mission and HK-47 standing across the main cargo hold. HK's in his usual place, storing his weaponry. Mission, however, is standing a foot or two away, looking troubled. Probably based on what just happened between us, then. Yeah, that's probably not going to help things at all. Worry about that one later. Along with the whole truth about my past…

Damn. This is heavy.

"Well, damn," I groan, rubbing my temples. "Did you drag me back here?"

Mission slowly shakes her head, expression remaining static. "You needed a bit of help, but you got here. I'm not surprised that you're having trouble remembering it, with the blow to your head."

"Thanks for that," I scowl, trying to push back the ridiculous throbbing that's threatening to consume every thought running through my head. "You just keep hitting me, don't you? I'm just waiting until you shoot me."

The Twi'lek doesn't say anything. I can't tell if she's cross or upset with me.

Sighing, I turn to face our local assassin droid. "Hey, HK, are we still waiting for Darius?"

The droid doesn't look at me, at least not with the two blood-red "eyes" it uses. Still, it's at least speaking with me. "Statement: Since this group of meatbags have boarded the ship, our commander has yet to board the freighter."

Okay, I feel like I'm finally figuring out where I'm at. After getting my head nearly bashed in. I'd hate to see how I look in a mirror, honestly. Black eye… I put a hand to the side of my head, feeling something wet. Blood, most likely. Unless I took a shower and don't remember it. Somehow, I don't see that as being very likely.

I stop my self-examination, hearing footsteps just outside the ship. Out of instinct, I reach for my blaster, but it's not there. Great, and I don't even have my own gun. This is getting better every second. I desperately look at Mission, who produces her own pistol, pointing it right at the entryway to our ship.

Instead of a heavily armed death squad made up of Sith soldiers – the man coming up the _Hawk_'s loading ramp is Carth Onasi, with a barely conscious Darius wrapped around the older man. His blue Jedi robes are a bit more tattered than before, I can see that he's pale. Malak did a number on him, I take. More so than in the game, where he was easy as hell to beat.

No, Bastila, though. She's gone. I tried to change things, and it seems like the only thing I changed was that I managed to reveal my origins and get everyone kind of pissed off. Changes, and not really much for the better. What kind of hole have I dug myself into this time? Apparently, one that's incredibly nasty. The best part should be what happens when Carth and Darius, err… Revan find out.

Even though I sort of told Mission what was going to happen, she bolts towards Darius and Carth. "Damn, what happened with you guys?"

"We ran into Malak," the Republic officer explains, letting Darius stand on his own power. "We can talk about it later, but right now we've got to get going. Now!"

I can't help but notice Mission glance at me out of the corner of her eye. "What about Bastila?"

"She's not coming." Darius simply says, voice rough and hoarse. The Jedi slumps against the bulkhead, sliding down until he's sitting on the floor. Yikes, what happened back there with Malak? That I don't know about, that is.

Carth races towards the cockpit, and after a moment, Mission follows. Without Bastila, I suppose we do need another co-pilot. I take a few steps towards the main hold, since I'm just about as useful here as a stack of papers, glancing at the defeated Darius on the way out of the room. Damn.

I guess I make up the more useless members of the crew when it comes to space flight and that sort of thing. Canderous, Jolee and Zaalbar are all standing around the conference table, which is now showing a holographic depiction of the _Leviathan_ warship. T3's in here, too, but working on a panel across the room, sparks flying all over the place. No wonder he looks so much worse in KotOR 2! That, and the once shiny metal droid is already looking a bit worse for wear, scrapes and dings are very obvious on the machine. Still, none of us are contributing to the flight of the _Hawk_, and really, there's not much we can do – since it flies with only one or two people at the helm.

So… if this was an aeroplane, am I a passenger or a flight attendant?

The engines behind us sputter for a moment, and then roar with a newfound power before idling, ready to be used. That's what I'm talking about! Even though this ship has some manner of making it feel like we're not moving that much, it's still noticeable. Time to finally get off the blasted _Leviathan_, then! The ship barely rocks to the side, which means we're turning around, I think. An instant later, the engines pick up. I step around the table, stretching to get a look out the cockpit. I can barely see a field of stars out there, but that just means we're headed in the right direction.

"If the Sith have repaired their systems, this is going to be a real short trip," Canderous mutters, not looking away from the holographic representation of the _Leviathan_. The blue model is actually getting further away from a much, much smaller holographic _Ebon Hawk_. That's actually kind of cool! Except for the fact that a few extra small holograms are leaving the _Leviathan_ in pursuit of our ship. That's actually kind of bad.

Oh, right! The Sith fighters! Darius, you better pull yourself together and get shooting. That was what generally happened when the annoying Sith fighter attacks happened in the game. Geez, I don't know if anyone liked those, they were really just kind of annoying. Still, if we did a good enough job back on the ship, we should be able to make it out of here in one piece.

"We've got Sith fighters incoming!" Carth shouts from the cockpit, "Someone's going to have to get on those gun turrets!"

Raising an eyebrow, I look between our little group that's just been standing out here. Either Darius is going to get up and start shooting, or someone here is going to have to take up that honour and get cracking. And after getting picked to do the whole _Leviathan_ break-out stuff, it sure won't be me. I haven't even got the faintest clue how I would go about doing that, anyways.

After a few tense moments, Canderous apparently volunteers, walking towards the ladder that's right across from the med-bay, where Jolee normally hangs out, in between the main hold and the engine bay. The Mandalorian frowns, facing me. Oh, no. Not me. Anyone but me.

"There are two turrets. Dorsal and ventral. Know how to use one?"

"No!" I admit. "In the game it was point and shoot."

"Same thing, then. Get a move on, let's kill something!"

Damnit, I hate this sometimes. As if it would make any difference, I audibly groan, and wait while Canderous rapidly ascends the ladder. Dorsal is the top, and ventral is the bottom… I think. It would make sense, so I step onto the ladder, and carefully head downwards, a panel automatically opening beneath me. The rungs on this aren't set up with safety in mind, and I feel like I'm going to fall off any minute. I glance down, and it looks like I'm headed into a small compartment… A few more steps, and the hatch above me seals shut. Oh, good thing I'm not claustrophobic. I think…

I'm not quite sure how I'm supposed to fit in here – there's only enough room to stand right in front of the ladder, otherwise the "ceiling" is barely three feet above me, but I can see a panel of glass in the section ahead of me. Well, here we go… I practically crawl into the compartment, scrapping my armour against the deck. By my head, now that I'm all the way inside, I can move around from waist up – and I'm looking out the glass panel. The access to the ladder is closed, a doorway closing behind me. Right in front of me is a control panel, which a trigger underneath each corner. I nudge the panel, and I notice that a set of gun barrels outside the window moves with it.

Okay then, that makes sense then. I think the blank panel in the middle should light up when I press the button right below it… Yep, that's working then. It's showing a blue grid, something that'll make it possible to aim? I'll have to figure this out really quickly.

What the hell was that? I look up, and see a Gizka dangling from one of the wires above. I wave the blasted creature off, ignoring it as the animal scurries off. I can barely hear Canderous' voice through a headset resting on a hook, next to my head. "Have you gotten set up down there?"

I snatch the device, throwing it over my head. Hopefully this is initiative and relatively easy to use… Just I ought to talk into it? "I think so. Is it really just point and shoot?"

"More or less," Canderous growls over the communication system. "Warm up your systems, lower left button on the display."

I do as I'm told, hearing a hum from the device in front of me. All right! Time to shoot some people up!

"Eight fighters, coming from behind," Carth tells Canderous and I, and I can feel the ship swinging into evasive manoeuvres, the stars in front of me rapidly shifting. I move the cannon to the right, and I'm fucking surprised when this whole sealed off compartment swings to the right, too! Damn! I continue pushing the controls to the right, ignoring the force feedback, until my field of view is right beneath the engines, red glow spilling over the hull. In the distance, I can see the _Leviathan_ and a few fighters getting closer, above the ship. My blue display is telling me the same thing. I think. Six dots coming towards the green dot. Um…

Blaster fire shoots from the top of the ship towards the incoming fighters, as they become more visible, so I figure that I might contribute to the defence of the ship. I pull one of the triggers, and one of the blaster cannons fires. I try the left trigger, and the other one works just as well. Okay, I've got this, I think.

The _Ebon Hawk_ shakes under fire, and three of the silver-grey fighters pass underneath the hull, right in my line of fire. I pull both triggers, but I quickly find out that these aren't semi-automatic guns, here. My pistol isn't either. Calling on my video game playing muscle memory, I pull on both triggers as rapidly as possible, firing again and again. As the Sith turn from my onslaught, I tug the control panel to the left, ignoring the fact that my stomach seems to be coming out of my gut.

After a few more shots, neither of the blasters are responding! What the hell is this, I could always shoot as much as I wanted to in the video game, couldn't I? I look down, and realise that I've managed to overheat both the cannons. Okay, then. Slow and steady, rather than shooting as quickly as possible. I wait for each to quickly revert to their normal space, and swing around to face one of the fighters, which is charging right at me, shooting green lasers.

I line everything up as quickly as I can, and as best as I can using the digital display. The image of a ship is right in the middle circle… and I pull both triggers at once, again and again. My red lasers intersect with the frame of the Sith fighter, and the thing blows up, exploding in a fireball. I did it!

A number appears on the upper right corner of my display: one. At that moment, I think I've got the display figured out; it's exactly like the radar indicator from the video game. I swing my turret around until I line up with one of the dots. I start shooting right away in a controlled manner, but this sucker is too far away.

"Have you even shot one of them?" Canderous taunts over the line, and for a moment, I ignore him, biting my lip as I keep trying to nail the sucker in the fighter.

I stop firing, waiting for the fighter to get closer. "Just one!"

Oh, I can ever hear him snort. "I think I'm beating you there, kid. I've got four."

The Sith fighter starts shooting, as do I. An instant later, our hull is scorched, but the fighter is destroyed. Not a bad trade off, then. Assuming we have some sort of repair system or way to scrub that off. It'll buff out…

"Make that two," I correct, smiling. I sigh, releasing my tight grip on the controls.

"All right you two," Carth mutters, "Prepare to jump to hyperspace. Three… Two… One."

As soon as the last word comes through the communication system, the view outside shifts into hyperspace, and my tiny turret chamber is tinted blue. I've seen the incredible hyperspace tunnel a few times from the cockpit, but this is even cooler – I stop for a second to gaze out the close window, it's quite a sight, really. Constantly twisting and distorting around the ship. Wow…

As nice as it is to look at, I can't spend all day down here, especially given the fact that we're going to be talking about the revelation up there. Revan's and mine, if this goes down like I think it's going to. I press the control to turn my console off, and jump half a foot when the minuscule room rotates, back to where it was when I started, and the panelling behind me opens back up. Oh, right. Makes sense, given that this whole damned thing can spin around. I crawl backwards, and head back up the ladder and onto the main deck of our ship. Good thing we don't have elevators. I would probably just kill myself now and get it over with…

I lean against a wall, a bulkhead, and wait while Canderous climbs down from his own turret. We're not on good terms anymore, but maybe we can fix that right now. Or at least make an attempt to do so.

"Okay, you beat me," I dramatically shrug, "How about a rematch later?"

The Mandalorian shakes his head, "And beat you every time? When else are we going to be running from Sith fighters, anyways? Oh, wait! Don't you know?"

I wipe the smile off my face. "Actually, I do. When we go to the Star Forge, we'll be doing this again."

"Right." Clearly, he's not exactly convinced here.

Damn, I can't see anything behind Canderous, massive bloke. The ladder's only a meter or two from the main hold, so I quickly step out from behind Canderous' large frame, and I find that most of the crew is still here, joined by Mission and Carth. The Republic soldier looks even more troubled than normal, and I sure as hell know why that is. With Carth's frequent worrying about being betrayed, this revelation about Darius isn't going to go well. And wait until he hears about my past. Oh, great. Carth…

The crew is anything if not somewhat predictable. With the exception of Darius, who is now taking a seat off to the right, we're all scattered around the table in our usual manner. Rather than us all right around the hologram-projecting device, we're a bit more scattered about. I walk past Canderous and T3, and find my normal spot near Mission, but I keep my distance. I don't want the other side of my face bashed in. Yuck.

"Where's Bastila? What happened back on that ship?" Jolee asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence between all of us.

"Malak," Darius says, taking an upright posture. "Bastila stayed behind… Otherwise we would've been killed. Or worse."

"So she's dead?" Mission asks, and I'm pretty sure I can feel her eyes digging into my skull. Didn't we go over this? And you hit me, if I remember correctly… Which I do.

Jolee slowly shakes his head. "No, Malak wants her alive. Use her battle meditation against the Republic, and with their fleet…"

"Well, we've got to find that last Star Map," Mission points out, "And then we can rescue Bastila before that happens."

"Not so fast," Carth interjects, facing Darius, "There's something important we need to discuss. Do you want to tell them what Malak said, or should I?"

For just a few seconds, there's only the sound of the hyperdrive engine in the room behind us, and I just watch as Carth and Darius exchange strained looks, until Darius sighs heavily, folding his arms behind his back. He opens his mouth, but stops… Come on, I know what you're going to say. Everyone else needs to hear it too.

"I'm… We'll, I'm Darth Revan."

There it is.

"Revan? Is this a joke?" Mission asks, "Malak told you this? How do you know it's not a trick or a lie?"

"It's no trick," Carth snorts, "Bastila admitted it, and Saul told me as he died on the _Leviathan_."

Darius' voice is barely above an audible whisper. "Honestly, I've started to suspect it myself. Back on Tatooine… I remember things I know I haven't done. Some parts of my life feel… Fake. I guess they are."

Mission frowns. "You remember … being Revan?"

"At first it was flashes, dreams… It's still not much more than that," Darius admits, and I notice that his eyes are locked onto his feet. I wonder if he's feeling guilty or something. I've done a lot of thinking about my own situation, but I have no idea what it's like to be in Darius' shoes… Not really, even though I've sort of played as him. But that really, as I've found out, it's nothing like you'd think it is. Reality is something of a bitch.

"Nothing more than that. Sounds like it shouldn't be much of a problem."

"How can you say that, Mission?" Carth says, raising his voice. "Revan was… is a Sith Lord! He's responsible for murdering my wife, and son… While we've been worrying about Malak, his old master has been right here, by our side, listening to all of our plans!"

Darius… Or Revan, I guess. Which should I start calling him? Either way, he apologises. "I'm sorry, Carth. I didn't ask for this."

"I should've seen this coming…" Carth mutters, "First Saul, now you?"

"_I swore a life debt to you, not the man you used to be,_" Zaalbar proclaims, "_I will continue to follow you, Revan._"

Strangely, the next one of the crew to speak up isn't Canderous, or Jolee. It isn't even T3, but instead, it's my least favourite assassin droid, the bloke that was kind enough to out my past. "Commentary: I am experiencing something unusual, master. It seems that my homing beacon has been reactivated after… After returning to my original master. Sith protocol requires temporary deletion of memory functions, but I have returned to you master."

"You're kidding," Mission says, clearly surprised. Oops, I probably ought to have mentioned that one, too. Along with just about everything involving this whole revelation. I probably should have told her a lot of things, along with the rest of the crew.

"This is the Force we're talking about. I wouldn't bat an eye if Malak himself could drop out of the sky at this point," Canderous jokes, before turning to a more serious note. "If you are Revan, you were the ones that defeated us in the Mandalorian War. We had never seen anyone like you. I would be proud to fight by your side."

The former Sith Lord takes a look at our astromech droid, "T3, you're with me too, right?"

The little machine happily whistles, which only puts a smile on Darius' face – apparently he's capable of understanding whatever it is that T3 frequently goes on about. I need to learn that, because some people seem to be able get it, and people like me don't. And if I'm going to keep dealing with T3, I'm sure as hell not asking HK for translations. I might have to hold a bit of a grudge against him. Might not be a good idea considering how dangerous he can be… Or, rather, how dangerous it can be. Pronoun confusion!

"Before you ask, I already knew who you were," Jolee says, smirking. "But it wasn't exactly my place to tell you. You're better off knowing, if you ask me."

Shit, I think that just leaves me. What am I supposed to say to Darius? I'm not going to simply drop my entire past right now, but I'm sure he's going to find out really soon… But if I outright lie, I've also got to figure out what I should say… What would I say if I wasn't me…? This question sucks. It's time to come up with something… Or maybe I can take a page out of Jolee's book…

"Stephen?" I hear Darius call my name, much as I've suspected.

I don't have a single idea of what I'm going to do. Crap… Come on, Stephen. You've got to do something. I sure just can't avoid the question. Not with something this important coming up. I hate being put on the spotlight, and this isn't any better to be honest. I just need to get through this. I'm just an average bloke thrown across time and space, and I'm not a badass or anyone near as talented on his damn crew.

"You are who you are," I truthfully admit… Here we go, then. "As long as you don't go around murdering everyone and everything." I stop for a minute, biting my lip, "But, I already knew who you were, just like Jolee did. Sorry."

Whew. I said it, and now I'm going to have to live with the consequences of that. Hopefully it doesn't come around and bit my ass that badly, but I've got a feeling that it will. Oh dear… I probably should've thought that one through a bit better.

I can't tell what Revan is thinking, but he processes my answer for a bit before moving back to the wary Republic officer. "Well, Carth. What about you?"

All eyes are on Carth. "I'm on your side, for now. You've proven yourself to be a friend of the Republic so far, but I'll have my eye on you… Revan."

"That's fine by me," Darius sighs, "We're going to stop at a supply post in Yavin. From here, it's a six hour trip. After that, it's a short jump to Korriban. We get in, find the last Star Map, and we'll get Bastila – before anything happens to her." The tone of his voice, it used to be hoarse, hesitant and rougher than I was used to… Now he seems to have a semblance of his old presence back. That's something. Now for the whole part about my past, and that crap. This is going to be good. Darius is going to find out from someone about me…

I look at everyone else, and I briefly consider having a word with Mission – but I think better of it. I'm tired of this, and I'm sure tired of this off and on thing that's going on. Maybe I need to cool down – or have Darius kick my ass. Regardless, I head off towards the crew cabin on the port side, but when I briefly turn around; and I find that Mission's following me.

"You're not here to blacken the other side of my face, are you?"

"You didn't exactly leave me much choice."

I groan. "You could have… not hit my face," I tenderly poke the side of my face, grimacing at the reaction. Why does this kind of thing always happen to me, of all people? I have got to have another word Selena about my luck, or lack thereof. Useless, that's what she is. My only answers and they don't do anything. Or help me in any way. How … ugh. I shouldn't even be thinking about that. Hell, I haven't even told Mission about that. Good thing, I can't take much more of this abuse.

"And you could have been not quite so determined to kill yourself," Mission deadpans, taking a seat in the bunk next to me. There's no one else in here, thankfully… Only took a few minutes before we had this inevitable conversation.

I think long and hard before retorting. "I think Bastila might be a little more important to this whole mission than I am. Fuck, I don't do anything useful!"

That's an honest answer too. Bastila is super important to the whole war effort, as if I would be able to forget that one. Battle Meditation trumps anything I've got. And I've most certainly realised that Bastila using that power against the Republic, as she's going to now – well, people will die. And I could've stopped it. For all I know, if I hadn't been so fucking selfish, Taris might have turned out differently. Was I put into this reality, this universe for some sort of greater purpose? Honestly, I wasn't ever religious, but the idea that everyone has a part to play… My head really hurts.

Mission's words aren't sympathetic or harsh; she's just saying things as they are. "You said yourself that if everything goes like you think it should, Bastila won't be in Malak's hands forever."

"Yeah, unless Darius goes all out evil and sides with her!" I exclaim, already getting tired of having to justify myself. It all made sense to me at the time, more or less… "It's a choice, and you've seen that they've been up to something."

"Then it's Darius' choice to make, if it's that important."

"Weren't you the one that was cross with me on Tatooine?" I ask, rising from my seat. I don't look at my friend, but take a look inside my locker – with my only possessions from Earth inside. Good, the Sith didn't take those. I was getting a little worried about that one. Wallet, and BlackBerry. I should've brought more stuff with me. Next time I get sucked into a reality, I need to drag a tubberware bin with me. At the very least, I wouldn't have to wear the civilian wear people here like. Yuck.

"That was different," Mission corrects, but I'm not convinced.

Bombshell time... More or less, I'm done keeping so many secrets from Mission and the rest of the crew that I've been a part of for six months. The crew that took me in even though I had little to offer, and the only friends I've got here. The only people I know! "You know what happens if Revan returns? You die. Zaalbar dies. Jolee does too. The Republic won't stand against Bastila, Revan and the Star Forge. "

"And that's what happened in the game?" Mission says, voice dropping to a hushed whisper.

"Yes!" I shout, as if that was obvious. I look back at Mission, looking her in the eye for the first time this whole conversation. How else would I know that? Precognition? I'm not a Jedi… "The bad ending!"

Someone adds to the conversation, but it's not Mission or myself. It's Darius, who I just noticed is standing just outside of the doorway – arms crossed and leaning against one of the ship's bulkheads. Oh. My. God. How long has he been there? Please tell me that I haven't just told all of that to Darius too. I… Shit.

I'm screwed beyond belief. Not a totally new experience, but I can just feel my heart pounding throughout my whole body, faster and faster- a drumbeat that's only getting faster and louder. Still, Darius' voice is audible, even though he is speaking just under his normal volume. It sends chills up my spine, though. None of the familiarity is there, none of the camaraderie or inviting tone that made me feel like part of the team.

"Give us the room."

He's clearly talking to Mission, and even she doesn't question this – dropping her usual spunky and playful quips behind. The Twi'lek silently leaves Darius and I in the port crew cabin. The former Sith takes a few steps towards me, sealing the door behind him. That heartbeat of mine is just getting worse and worse. It's going to break all my veins at this rate.

I can really see where this might have been the once mighty and powerful Sith Lord, though. "I spoke with HK," Darius says, and I realise that he knows everything I told the crew on the _Leviathan_. Fucking HK! "I told it that there must be a problem with its memory circuits. You know what I got?"

I shake my head, honesty uncertain of what answer I'm going to be listening to in just a second.

"HK went through every possible piece of data it compiled, and every diagnostic. If it's the truth…" The Jedi suddenly reaches out, and next thing I know, I'm a few inches off the ground, Darius' elbow digging into my neck, forcing me against the lockers. This isn't going well… Breathing… problems.

"Prove it," Darius growls, "Only other explanation is that you're working for Malak – or that this one hell of a misunderstanding."

I try to take a breath, thinking of anything I could say that would convince Darius that my origins are in fact, the truth, even though it's one of the most insane stories I could come up with. What would honestly prove this, and prevent my head from turning red or getting bashed into the locker over and over again? Shit, shit, shit….

"Dantooine, you had a dream. About Malak and Revan," I wheeze, "Revan was silent, but Malak didn't have that metal jaw…" Fuck… I wish I played this game again before this! "He was asking Revan… you, if it was a good idea. That the Jedi would surely banish you both."

As quickly as it began, I'm released, falling to my knees on the deck. I desperately take in some air before I cement my knowledge. "And on the _Endar Spire¸ _you were sleeping when the ship was attacked. Trask woke you up. And you and him ran into-."

"Into Bandon," Darius mutters, deep in thought. "You knew this all along. About Revan. You even admitted that an hour ago."

I silently nod, feeling a lot like a child being berated by their headmaster. Been there before, and my racing heartbeat is being accompanied by several thousand butterflies working their way through my stomach. Don't be sick, Stephen. At this rate I'm going to be ill all over the deck.

"That's why you found Carth and I on Taris," Darius realises, "How long where you there? You must have known what was going to happen there as well."

Guilt rears its ugly head once again. "Yeah… The day we met, that was the very same day I just sort of … ended up on Taris."

To prove my point by reaching into my locker, and producing my old wallet. I flip it open, seeing a few dollars in bills, and my a few ID cards that I had to keep on me. Student things, driver's license, that sort of thing. I pass it over to Darius with a resigned sigh, and I wait for him to thumb through the contents, taking particular note of my license.

"I can't believe this," the man scoffs, "This is the _most_ ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my life. I've always thought something was different about you, but this?" Darius waves the leather wallet for emphasis, shaking his head. "Either the universe has gone insane, or you've got a creative pack of lies."

I reach for the BlackBerry, the device that never left my pockets back home. Now, it's barely worthless. I turn it back on, thankful that there's a universal wireless charging device in the lockers that restores power on blaster power cells… Or something. Good thing, this phone's got crap battery. I call up the failed message I tried to send to my mother back on Dantooine, and toss the phone to Darius. I've just tossed him something I haven't even shown this to Mission, or even mentioned it to her. Seems like forever ago since I sent that message… Though it must've only been a week or two ago. Looking at it again, the device seems unusually primitive to me, after using datapads for this long. I'm by no means used to any of the technology here, but still...

Darius' eyes bounce back and forth, reading the contents of the BlackBerry. "That's everything I've got from home. Everything HK told you is true. I'm from another reality. I know what's going to happen because I've seen this. In a video game."

"A video game," Darius repeats. He throws both of my possessions onto a bunk, and runs his open palms across his face. "It would've been a lot more useful to know this back on Taris, or even Dantooine."

"I know. I was overwhelmed… At first, I was just planning on trying to find a way home after Taris."

"And now?"

I bite my lip, "I honestly don't think I can go back to Earth." Yeah, not with the mystery of Selena up in the air. I don't even know if I'm going to hear from her again. Enigma indeed. "And I planned on staying and contributing in any way I could. If I wanted to bail, I would have done so before the _Leviathan_."

"Then I expect you to provide a bit more … insight," Darius warns, "Starting with Bastila. Where is she?"

"The Star Forge," I say simply, "Malak's going to turn her against you, against the Republic. And you won't find her until you go to Korriban and get that Star Map. After that… You're going to run into her not long after. She won't be the same."

Darius doesn't reply, and walks out of the cabin, leaving me behind. He's got a lot on his mind, I take it. I take a seat on the nearest bunk, heart gradually returning to normal. Everyone knows… Except for Carth and Bastila. This isn't what I had in mind when I appeared on Taris.

* * *

The ship touched down at a space station, in the Yavin system without much incident, though the massive orange gas giant was something to behold. Looks a lot like it did in the original Star Wars film. I remember reading somewhere that BioWare released some small DLC about a Yavin space station, but I don't think I ever downloaded the add-on. We all left the ship on our own time, even T3 and HK. After a long hallway with quite a few massive doors, there's not much in here except for a large open room, with parts and merchandise lining the walls and tables, all of it being handled by a Rodian by the name of Suvam Tan. Apparently he knows Jolee from some old war, and that was kind of interesting.

The only other thing that's even remotely interesting is the lovely window that's covering the far side of the station, across the airlock. The planet of Yavin takes up the majority of the view, along with a few smaller moons – one of which looks like it's covered by jungles. Yavin IV, I think they called it. I'm looking at the moon where the Rebels will blow up the Death Star! There's just so many times that this world, this universe, takes me by surprise. KotOR was such a narrow focus – there's a lot more in this galaxy than the game ever let on, that's for sure.

Assuming I haven't already corrupted the timeline to the point where that won't happen. Unless J.J. Abrams is rebooting the franchise, in which "destiny" will bring everything together even if some psychopath is out to blow up entire worlds and alter the past. On top of all things I need to be thinking about, time travel shouldn't be one of those. Paradoxes make my bloody head hurt.

I take an admiring look at some of the armours and arms this Rodian's got, though. None of that low-end, cheap stuff I've been using. A lot of looks really nice, much lighter – and probably just as useful as this heavy stuff I've been stuck with. The problem, though, is that I can't seem to afford any of it. Some things never change, do they?

Frowning, I nearly step over a Gizka, hearing a loud squeal from the stupid, two foot tall beast. They haven't been doing that much aboard the _Ebon Hawk_, but I think our Gizka and the ones above this station have met up for a sort of Gizka meeting. I hate these stupid little things… I kick at one of them, sending it running away. Pests.

After a moment, while watching the Gizka run off, I think about taking another look out the window. The rest of the crew is around here somewhere – and from the sound of it, we're basically here for a bit stop. I overheard Carth and Darius talking to Suvam Tam about fuel for the _Ebon Hawk_. To the best of my knowledge, we haven't filled up the tank since Dantooine. Is the _Hawk_ very fuel efficient?

I see HK and T3 standing near the window across the room – and I might have a few things to say to the assassin droid. Jolee's standing there and thinking nearby. Shrugging, I take a few steps towards the two droids, and I overhear part of their conversation, though it's a bit one-sided, given how I've got no idea whatever T3 says.

"Statement: Repair is such a waste of our abilities. Assassination theory and execution of said functions are a much more rewarding task."

While the astromech droid shrieks in reply, I step behind T3-M4, and the taller of the two droids swings his "head" around to face me, red eyes changing colour intensity back and forth every few seconds. "Greeting: Hello again, psychotic meatbag. Have you sought me out in an effort to continue our discussion about the obvious superiority of machines?"

Clenching my jaw, I let loose. "No, but I'm a little irritated that you told Darius about my past. I was hoping to break the news to him myself on that one."

"Objection: Revan is my master, and withholding information from him would be in violation of my core programming."

Ugh. I try to figure out how to voice my concerns without having the droid put a shot through my head or something. "Yeah… Well… Maybe you could be a little discrete when dealing with 'meatbags' like myself." I do finger quotes around the word meatbag, trying to show disdain for the word that is so frequently used as an insult to anyone that isn't a droid. Even if I swapped half of my body parts for mechanical components, HK probably wouldn't be happy. Picky asshole.

"Discretion is not within my programming," the droid calmly informs me. The machine pauses for a few moments before continuing, however, it isn't addressing me. "We must return to the freighter, miniaturised one." With that, the two droids do just that, passing by me without another word. Um… Wait… I'm slightly confused. I haven't heard Darius come out here and say it's time to go to Korriban.

Korriban. The Sith Academy. Right into the heart of their territory, and we don't have Bastila with us anymore. This one isn't going to be easy, I think. Perhaps fortune does favour the bold… We can only hope.

"What was that about?" Jolee asks, joining me, much like he had done aboard the Sith warship.

"No idea," I honestly admit. "Those two droids were talking about repairs, so maybe they're off to do that. We could probably use a few of those after escaping from that Sith ship."

The old man chuckles. "We seem to have got a pretty reliable ship, you know. Despite the food processors, those are disgusting."

"Yeah," I agree, thinking back to some of the sub-par meals I've had aboard the _Ebon Hawk_. "But what's your point?"

"Who says I'm making one? The young are always so impatient, demanding answers… especially ones from other universes! I can't say that I've ever met any of those."

"Glad you're amused," I frown. "So… I'm sure you've got something to say about this, right?"

The former Jedi puts a hand on my shoulder. "It's not my place to judge you based on your past! Unless you might be familiar with mine and you're planning on writing a lengthy paper on everything I've done."

"I know a bit," I tease, but I realise that it might be uncomfortable given how much I know about the man's past – including the stories about his wife and the war he fought in. "That's not erm… uncomfortable, is it?" He raises a thick, greying eyebrow.

I nod. "Right… I'll try not to bring that up again…"

"It's just unusual… None of us knew that much about you, but you know much more about our pasts."

Yeah, tell me about it. "I wasn't planning on coming here, you know. If that makes you feel any better." I've been wondering if anyone was going to say something about this whole issue. It's a bit creepy, I'll fully admit. But really, I'm not so sure why everyone's on my case, it's not like I volunteered for this. I was honestly fine where I was.

"I'm sure," Jolee smiles. "Just don't let your knowledge go straight to your head, then!"

The sound of rapid footsteps against the floors, making both of us turn to face the other side of the room, where Mission is racing towards us. Carth isn't far behind her. How goodness, what's he up to? I sincerely hope that he hasn't found out the whole truth about me. Probably should get around to telling him that, though.

"Jolee! Stephen!" Mission cries, making Suvam wince at the notion that there are people sprinting through his shop and shouting at one another. "The Sith Lord says you've got three minutes to get aboard or you're getting left here!"

"HK must've been keeping a timer ready," I note, stepping away from the view and the window. "I guess we're already going straight into hell. You know how many Sith there are on Korriban?"

"Twelve… No, thirteen!" Jolee snickers, bringing back an all too familiar line I remember form the game.

"That's what I thought you'd say." I step out of the main room on this space station, and into the long hallway – where there are several doors between us and the main hangar. Luckily, when the rest of the crew came through here, they opened these things up. I'd hate to be waiting for doors to open up while the _Ebon Hawk_ flies off without us.

Just a few hours after landing aboard this small structure, we're all back outside the ship. The _Ebon Hawk_ was always noble and static throughout the game, but in reality, it's got quite a few burns and spots of damage from our encounters with the Sith, especially our recent escape from the _Leviathan_. The top of the ship took the brunt of the damage though. From the right angle, I can see it – burns blackening the freighter, exposing some wiring and such.

At least the hangar looks okay, not something of an eyesore. Metal grid panels, but the thing I thought was cool was how the bay is exposed to space, just like the hangar aboard the _Leviathan_, the only thing between us and the vacuum of space is a small force field, barely visible to the naked eye. Unsettling, but very impressive.

T3 whistles at everyone as we board the familiar setting of our ship. English, do you speak it? Regardless of if I can understand it or not, I realise a small smile has formed across my features. The droid behind me closes the loading ramp, which hisses, sealing tightly. Wouldn't want our ship to be leaking oxygen. I'd rather not think about that.

Right after the ramp closes, the ship's engines engage, and the ship must be departing, given how the feeling of departing the station seems to be just like leaving the _Leviathan_. I walk past Canderous, nodding my head, hoping to get any response back. The Mandalorian does the same. We're making progress.

I turn the corner, and nearly ram right in Darius. "Shit, sorry!" I exclaim, rapidly backing up.

"I was looking for you, actually," the human declares, aggressively waving a black towel at me. "I just wanted to brush up on some things before we land on Dantooine."

"Dantooine? I thought we were going to Korriban. Star Map?"

Darius slowly shakes his head, taking a long, deep breath. "We will. But I wanted to see if there were any survivors. I want to know… whatever you know about this whole situation."

Dantooine? "Well…" I start, the memory of appealing to the Jedi Council practically playing back like a videotape in my head. "I tried to get the Council to evacuate the planet. That's what I asked Bastila to talk to them, and that's why we got in a fight. I spoke with them and someone from the government. They were subtly evacuating, but the Jedi were staying behind… They knew that wherever they went, the Sith would hunt them down. But going there now? That wasn't an option."

"Not an option?" Darius questions, eyes narrowing. "You're telling me that you have no idea what we'd run into there?"

"Video game didn't let me go back to Dantooine," I scowl, "This won't be the first time it's happened, though. If you haven't guessed, I wasn't part of this crew… And I was fucking surprised when you picked me before we got snagged by the _Leviathan_. Honestly, I panicked… I don't know if you could've picked anyone worse. A Gizka would have been worse."

"No," Darius… No. Revan, argues. "I've seen you turn from a skinny, pathetic teenager into a soldier. I turned you into that. I forced you to kill, repeatedly. You joined because you wanted to survive. And you're a bastard for it. But everyone else, even Mission, she had done this before."

"I could have left any time," I assure him, but he cuts me off.

"You could have. But you've changed over the past seven weeks. You're more determined, more confident. You still can't shoot things worth a damn sometime, but… If anything, you're resourceful. Didn't I say that on Taris, since the beginning?"

"We'll be at Dantooine in less than an hour. I expect you to clean up in the meantime, Private," Darius orders, tossing me the towel wrapped around his hands. Can it please be longer than just a few minutes, you cruel bastard?

Relief floods my brain. I've told everyone, more or less, and it seems that while I've messed some things up… Including my joke of a relationship with Mission… Well, I haven't been thrown off the _Ebon Hawk_. And for a while, I thought that was going to happen. Things are looking up in that regard.

Now, after Dantooine, we're flying right into the heart of the enemy's territory. Last Star Map… And we're off to the Star Forge, and a massive battle, too. And, just like the game, we've got to do all of this before the Sith wipe the Republic out. Time seems to be running out.

* * *

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	23. Chapter 23: When It Rains

Chapter 23: When It Rains

"Fears are educated into us, and can, if we wish, be educated out."

~Karl Augustus Menninger

**Author's Note: Update Thursday came a week early? You bet! That's just how I roll.**

**Thanks for all the reviews, favourites, and subscriptions thus far. **

* * *

For the first time, I feel queasy and ill during hyperspace travel. I've never had this happen, nor have I ever been seasick, or anything whilst on an aeroplane. But right now… Ugh. At least I've got a seat, and I try not to gaze into the endless hyperspace tunnel through the cockpit's windows. I feel a little odd sitting in Bastila's seat, especially since for the past few minutes; I've been much more concerned with _not_ taking a peek out the window. Heights, and today, its hyperspace tunnels. Endless blue vortexes, twisting and turning…

After all the mess aboard the _Leviathan_, the escape, and refuelling the ship at Yavin Station… It really did feel good to finally get in the shower, even if after ten minutes, the water turned from pleasantly warm to near-freezing. That was a really unpleasant feeling, especially since I like my showers to be so hot I come out red. At least there's some sort of laser shaving device in there. I hadn't done anything with that, so I performed the routine effort of stopping fuzz from making me look like Shaggy.

My hair was a completely different story. Before, on Earth, I used hair product to get it to stick up, and I thought it looked cool. Since then, it's gotten longer and longer - especially in the front. It's gotten to the point where I've had to put a bit of stuff in it, and push it off to the side. Long bans get in the way in combat. And that's just not cool. And I had to do all of this in the most cramped water closet I've ever seen. At least on Dantooine we had decent bathrooms.

Dantooine… I remember what Bastila said when we first got here, how It seemed like forever since she was last there, but it really only been a few weeks. After running from one side of the galaxy to the other, avoiding the Sith and searching for the Star Forge… Dantooine and the _Ebon Hawk_ were the only two safe havens we had. At least that I know about. And one of those is a hull-breach away from killing all of us. Sadly, this trip to Dantooine isn't a return to paradise.

I saw Dantooine five years later, in KotOR 2, and the Enclave was practically levelled. I saw Taris fall to the Sith. I can't really imagine what we're going to find down there… Darius said something about finding survivors, or anything than we can do there. While he made it clear that we can't spend that much time… the search for the Star Forge can't be put off for very long. Especially since Bastila's in the hands of our enemy – meaning that her battle meditation is only going to bolster the Sith fleet, once Malak breaks her, that is.

The displays in front of me are a bit foreign, but I don't see anything that indicates when we drop out of hyperspace. It's been almost an hour since we jumped to light speed, which means we should almost be there. I hope.

Carth Onasi turns to face me from his chair. "Something on your mind?"

I spin my own chair around, taking a little moment of pleasure from making the seat whiz about. Heh, always a fun little thing. That's why I could never work in an office, always moving around with the chair. I quickly regret it, though, as it doesn't do anything to help my current bout of newfound motion sickness. "Just a bit of nausea," I reassure Carth, "I'm fine."

"I wouldn't have pegged you as having space sickness," the Republic officer says, "We'll be at Dantooine in less than ten minutes, you probably should grab some air while we're down there. I can't guarantee that it'll be fresh, though."

"Yeah," I grimly agree, rubbing my eyes. "Maybe I could use some sleep."

"Or maybe you're not taking the news about the LT that well," Carth suggests, looking back at his console, but still raising an eyebrow. "Though you said you already knew, didn't you?"

Oh, dear. We're venturing into this topic, then. "That's right. So, somehow I don't think that's making me sick."

"Scuttlebutt says you've got an interesting story about all of that," Carth quickly replies, tapping a few buttons on his console. One of the panels emits a series of tones, followed by flashing blue lights. Nothing too alarming, though. Bad things seem to be accompanied by red lights, and shrill klaxons.

"And what has the scuttled ass told you, Carth?" I frown, using the tried and true tactic of deflecting words with sarcasm and messed up humour.

Carth hits a few buttons before answering. "Not much, actually. Just that you had a word with almost everyone aboard Saul's ship. About your whole Sith association."

"Not quite," I correct, but the roar of the engines cuts me off from saying anything more at the moment. I look up, head shooting up. The vortex outside the cockpit dissolves, shifting into normal space, stars and distant planets replacing the bright hyperspace tunnel. This system's sun is visible, too.

"Hang on," Carth barks, turning his full attention to controlling the _Ebon Hawk_. "Distance to Dantooine?"

I throw both of my arms up. "I don't have any idea what any of these mean!" I shout, eyes darting between every possible surface in front of me. There are like… fifty million displays here! Some of which have just as many buttons! Red, blue, yellow… all with different text on them. This isn't a computer. This is madness!

"Astrological display, middle console, third button from the bottom right corner," Carth lists off the location rapidly, but I somehow manage to keep up, and I press the button labelled '_Astro_.' Okay, makes sense, then. I press it, and the centre display expands to a widescreen display with way less buttons. Instead, there's a big circle in the middle of a grid, labelled '_Dina_.' That must be this system's sun, with smaller dots scattered around it, including one labelled '_Dantooine_,' the fourth from the sun, with two tiny dots… Moons! Not knowing what else to do, I press my finger on the planet. The map of the star system fades into the background, and a shitload of information about Dantooine presents itself to me, including the distance, which I quickly rattle off.

"Alright," Carth mutters, sitting back in his pilot's seat. "I need you to start a long range scan, see if there are any Sith ships that are waiting for Republic vessels returning to this system."

"Yes, sir," I quickly reply, turning my attention to the console, and switching back to the astrological display. From there, I see an exit button in the upper right corner. Glad to see that things on a computer still make ruddy sense. Now… I'm back in a mess of buttons and menus. "Where would that be?"

Carth looks at me with surprise. "Sensor menu, type two. Direct it at the planet. Have you never used a co-pilot's sensor suite before? The _Hawk_ has a basic layout shared between quite a few ships."

I slowly work my way through the menus, reading every option and trying to figure out what's going on with these. "I'm working on it," I snap back after a few minutes, finally performing the simple action that I was supposed to be doing. I read the right-hand console, which is showing the results. "If you think I'm supposed to be the new co-pilot, I'm going to need an owner's manual. I only sat here because the chair is comfy."

Actually, the chair sucks.

"Revan doesn't enjoy co-pilot duties," the Republic officer frowns, "Besides, for the moment, he's the one giving the orders. Mission's more than capable of doing this though. You _are_ sitting there, though."

"Good," I sigh, "I haven't the faintest clue how to use this. Besides, at some point, I've got a rematch with Canderous in the gun turrets. Those are point and shoot, not navigating through the most complex control scheme outside of an RTS game."

Out the windows, the planet of Dantooine is becoming visible, details filling in instead of a small dot. "I'm just surprised you don't know what you're doing."

That's as good of an icebreaker as I'm going to get, I think. I rest my head against the headrest, sighing as I look at the approaching planet. I can't really remember exactly what Dantooine used to look like, mostly greens and such – though, not like Kashyyyk in that regard. Browns and greens, still. If the damage done by the Sith is visible from space, it isn't easy to spot at this distance.

"Actually, there's a pretty good reason I can't work my way around a console," I start, forcing myself back to my original train of thought. I grind my teeth together, hard enough that I nearly wince at the sound echoing throughout my skull. "And yes, it has to do with whatever the scuttlebutt is saying about me. I think."

"Really?" Carth questions. "I haven't heard that much, and only something from Bindo, before we refuelled the ship."

Well, how should I go about breaking the news? "You know how I let it slip that I knew about the Sith quarantine back on Taris? And you pulled a gun on me? I said that I only knew that little fact was because I once worked for the Sith?"

"That's right," Carth replies, hitting a few controls, and the ship tilts just slightly to the side, adjusting our angle. I only notice because Dantooine appears to be rotating just slightly, from our point of view. "I've been keeping an eye on you since then, private. I'm not just going to let a supposed ex-Sith, even one that can't fly the ship, be completely without supervision."

"Yeah, I know," I say, remembering my partial conscription into the Republic military. Talk about a complicated mess. "But, truth is, if you were to dig through every file the Sith possess, I wouldn't show up anywhere. You can ask Mission about that. Actually, I wouldn't show up _anywhere_, until about seven weeks ago."

"Starting the day we met, on Taris," I finish, stopping to let it all sink in. Carth doesn't interject or say anything at all, so I keep going. "Saying that I used to be Sith was the only way to cover up how I really knew what was going on – in fact, it was the only thing that wouldn't make me sound insane. Like the truth."

"Truth?" The Republic soldier turns back to face me, shifting attention from the approaching planet to what I'm saying. "What truth?"

"Seven weeks ago, I just appeared on Taris. No experience, no idea what I was doing. The strange part, though… Where I originally came from, a planet called Earth, there was a video game. You were in it, the _Ebon Hawk_… All of this. Except me. So, I knew about the quarantine, I knew that Darius was Revan. All of it."

Carth lets out a long, slow breath. "You're joking, aren't you? Trying to hide some of your association with Malak."

"No!" I quickly retort, groaning. "Carth, you lost your wife on Telos, and her name was Morgana. And you had a close friend in the Telosian militia named Dol Gren, right?"

"How the hell do you know that?"

"From that game. I'm sorry, mate, but I'm telling you the truth. I really didn't want to say anything – it's just insane. Not to mention, I was afraid I'd be put in a lab somewhere. But, back on the _Leviathan_, I had to say something. I had to stop lying to my friends. Right now, everyone knows."

I hear the man beside me scoff. Can't say I blame him, I sure wouldn't believe anyone that told me something so absurd. "Come on," I say, trying to convince Carth, who's gone back to piloting the craft. "I'm well aware that you don't trust me on this, you really don't trust anyone. Not after Saul. And I'm sure that I'm coming across like a shithead, right now. But I'm telling you the truth. I've told this to everyone else, even Darius. Feel free to ask him."

"I don't plan on asking Darth Revan," Carth wearily warns.

"That's good, because _Darth_ Revan died three years ago," Darius' voice barks from behind both of us. "I might be Revan, and this kid might be from another dimension… But neither of us are your enemy, Carth." I look over my shoulder, seeing the Jedi stand behind Carth and I, looking out of the cockpit.

"You believe him?" Carth asks, not looking away from his console, clearly irritated.

Darius wraps a hand around the back of my chair, uncomfortably close, really. At least he's getting to look at all the bizarre displays and controls, too. "It took a bit of proof, and I'm keeping an eye on him. But our enemy is Malak, not each other. Besides, a time travelling ally with some knowledge of the future might be useful."

"Compensates for my inability to shoot straight," I joke, smiling. Though, I remove that expression when no one else seems amused or does the same.

"Carth, send a request to land at the Jedi Enclave," Darius orders, abruptly changing the topic. Probably a good idea, given that Dantooine is now larger than our entire cockpit window. At this distance, I have to correct myself. I can see now that there black marks and red spots on the planet. The Sith were here, alright. And it looks like you can indeed see it from orbit.

The Republic Captain clearly seems confused. "Saul told us himself, there isn't going to be a Jedi Enclave there."

"I know," Darius replies, lowering his voice and his grip is tightening on my seat. "I didn't want to believe the Admiral… Take the ship into the atmosphere, and land the ship in the plains, as close to the Enclave as you can get."

"Are we allowed to just land wherever we want, then?" I ask, puzzled. "I thought we had to land in a hangar. At least, that's what I thought."

"It's illegal to do so on a civilised planet," Carth informs me, "Not to mention, dangerous. In a hangar, there's security measures built in, like cameras."

I silently nod, watching the rapid approach of the planet. A few moments later, though, the thick clouds of the atmosphere become the only thing visible, as well as red blobs around the window. Well, more like streaks, I guess. But as I found out from another trip down to the surface of a planet, that would be the friction between our ship and the relatively thick air that we're soaring through at really, really fast speeds. It's apparently normal, and the ship has method to deflect the heat around the ship, and the friction doesn't do anything more than bit a small amount of wear on the ship. It's both slightly unnerving and a little cool. Well… actually, it's hot.

No, wait, didn't someone try to trademark that phrase?

The clouds around the ship are quite suddenly gone, and now we can all see miles and miles of land. Buildings are just as small as an ant, but a few of them are ruined and destroyed, I can see that from up here. Oh, okay… We're quite a ways up… And I'm already not feeling so great. I hate heights. I really do, so I look straight ahead, noticing that we're quickly slowing down, and getting closer and closer to ground level.

Eventually, the sky isn't straight ahead, but instead, a small hill. The sight is accompanied by a shock throughout the ship, and engines come to a complete stop. Why is the ship facing a pretty steep, brown cliff? Good going, Carth. Unless I was somehow supposed to be doing something in this stupid co-pilot's seat. If so… someone probably should have kicked me out of here.

Darius releases his grip on my chair, and I spin around to face the former Sith Lord. "Neither of you as to join me out here. We're only going to be out there for a few hours. We can't afford to waste any more time. After this, we're going straight to Korriban."

Carth steps out of his seat. "I'm going too: don't count me out of this one. We need to see if there are any survivors, and notify the Republic if they're not here already."

My teeth clamp down on my bottom lip. "I'm going too," I volunteer, almost surprised that I just said that. "I was living here for a month, you know."

"It might not be something you want to see," Darius warns, eyes seeming cold and empty – but honest.

I hadn't really thought of that… Still, I stand on my feet, next to Carth. I check to make sure my blaster is fastened to my belt. Got it, which means that I'm ready to go. Sombrely, I follow Darius and Carth into the main hold, where most of the crew is waiting, including Mission. She and I briefly exchange tense looks, but we don't share any words. Either it's not the right time, or being back on Dantooine… Now that I've taken some time to cool down, I really ought to say something to her. Apologise, maybe? Even though I'm in the right here, and she was the one that hit me. Though, I remember hearing someplace on Earth that in a relationship, the woman is always right.

That's assuming that Mission and I are in a relationship… Talk about a confusing mess. It was going well, and now, it isn't.

Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I wait for the _Hawk_'s loading ramp to fully open, exposing us to a world outside. Everyone's coming out; it seems like, even HK, T3 and Jolee. Hell, Canderous, too. I'm in the middle of the group, and when it comes my turn, I take a few steps, the ground immediately changing from metal panels, to grass and soil.

The only thing I can see at the moment, though, is the steep hill that I saw from inside the ship. I've seen Dantooine in all kinds of weather, having been here for so long – something that I didn't get to witness from the game. No more static scenery, BioWare!

The clouds are grey and overcast, some of the worst cloud coverage I've seen here. As we walk around the ship, though, that very obviously is the least of our worries here. True enough, Carth did land us right in the middle of a field, and quite close to the Jedi Enclave, the once noble and sturdy structure.

Now, it's an entirely different story.

Where we landed is just across from the stream separating the Dantooine plains and the grounds of the Jedi Enclave, with the metal bridge over that stream just a foot or so away. The Enclave is torn apart, the centre structure blasted open, debris _everywhere_. I can even see fires inside, even on some of the fields in the distance. Worse than that, though, are the bodies. A dozen or so just scattered in front of the Enclave, one of them is clad in red Sith armour. Seems like the Sith came down here while bombing the place… Just to be thorough.

One of the corpses nearby isn't even an adult or a soldier. It's a child. A dead child.

Oh my god. My eyes are watering at the sight. I didn't really know the Jedi here, but…There were children here? How many people died here, and how many of them were innocent? We saw Taris fall, but we didn't see the dead, we didn't witness the aftermath.

T3 whistles a low note as we walk over the bridge, coming closer to the destruction, and a realisation dawns on me. This is just the Enclave… where else did they target? Any of the homes that the rich reside in? The civilian government that runs Dantooine? Where does the devastation and destruction stop?

We walk into the once peaceful courtyard, where the stonework and gardens are both ruined, and a few more bodies visible to us. The smell of burning material overwhelms my senses, but we can't get too much closer to the Enclave, since the entrances are damaged beyond repair. Looking at this today… It's very obvious why in KotOR 2, Dantooine still hasn't recovered. I wonder if it will ever recover.

"Dantooine," Mission whispers, putting one of her blue hands on my armoured shoulder. A moment later, she gently squeezes. In response, I place my own hand over Mission's. I push back a few tears, tightening my grasp. I was expecting destruction, but seeing it...

That's something else.

* * *

Darius told us that we might spend a few hours here, but I don't think that he knew how bad the damage done would be. About an hour was spent trying to find survivors, but that was honestly a futile effort. The only things that we really found were even more corpses. Including the body of one of the Jedi Masters. That was unpleasant, to say the least. The whole time we were in there, I was struggling to not to start crying. Back on Earth, I never shed tears. Not since I was a child. Seeing all this death, though. I wasn't prepared for it. I don't know if I ever will be, should I run into something like this again.

It's quite clear to me now, though, why one could never take a trip back to Dantooine after the _Leviathan_ levels. Either that, or gameplay limitations. As I know, the game isn't quite like real life. At all.

"It's strange," I observe, looking out at the plains in front of me, clearly haven taken damage from the Sith warships. "Taris was so much bigger than this planet, but we didn't see the aftermath. We just whizzed off."

"Taris. With the stuck-up rich, and the gangs beneath them… I wasn't sorry to see it go," Canderous says, not moving from his whole leaning on a nearby tree manoeuvre.

I scoff at how calm he sounds with that. "That's right, you're a Mandalorian. This kind of stuff is what you're used to, right?"

"You were with me when I killed Jagi," Canderous retorts. "That thinking is what drove the clans to war, and to our defeat at Malachor. I'm not saying that it wasn't… invigorating. But after forty years, and Jagi, who died because of old traditions and honour…"

I shuffle my feet, stretching slightly. "Alright, alright. But this is revolting. I've fought some fights, ever since I got here… Even some big ones, right?" I weakly smile, fondly remembering some of the scraps we managed to get through. They seem almost easy, thinking back to them… Huh. "I can't believe what I've seen here."

"You remind me of some Republic citizen, oblivious to what the real world looks like."

I shake my head. "I don't know. Where I'm from is a lot more peaceful. At least, to the common bloke. I thought there were rules. Don't you people have Geneva Conventions or something? Don't kill civilians?"

"Let me ask you something, then." Canderous says, "The Republic has its conventions of warfare… But do you think my people followed them? Or Revan, or even Malak and his Sith?"

"Obviously not."

"Revan, Darius… Whatever you want to call him, he knew that following the rules, it only held the Republic back, while my people pressed forward, conquering world after world."

"What are you saying, then?" I ask, not liking where this conversation is headed, at all. "That we should pull the same kind of stunt?"

The Mandalorian slowly shakes his head in disagreement. "What I'm telling you is that this is war. It's brutal, and people die in war. Sometimes, even the innocent."

"Reality is a bitch," I growl, "And it doesn't mean I have to like it. Or agree with it. It's just… not easy to deal with."

"I'm surprised that Revan chose to return here," Canderous admits, "After the Sith Admiral told him that they attacked the planet, after seeing the fall of Taris, he must have known that the planet would be a graveyard."

I look at the Mandalorian with a fair amount of surprise. "We were here for almost a month, and these Jedi trained him that whole time. You might have been the ship the whole time, but… still. Dantooine is between our last destination, and Korriban. It's not like we're going to be here for a few days."

"The Revan we fought against wouldn't waste valued time searching for survivors," Canderous argues, placing quite a bit of emphasis on the last word, as if it were a curse. "The Sith are going to do with the Mandalorians could note: wipe out the Republic. Our search for the Star Maps is the key to stopping them."

"No love for the Sith?" I ask, remember Canderous' strong dislike of the Republic. I've heard enough stories about how the Republic basically sucked during the war. Those never put Carth in the best of moods if he was nearby.

"No. And the worst part is that they might be in control of the galaxy at this rate. Revan should be the one to stop them, but he's not quite the Jedi that bested us years ago."

"Give him some time," I chuckle, "When some of his memories come back, maybe. The Council sure did a number on him, though. Of course, from what I know, Revan was a legend during the Mandalorian Wars. And then he came back. Basically, seems like there's a lot more to him than meets the eye."

Like a Transformer. Damn, I'm full of awful jokes and references today.

"We're also expecting a lot from him," I finish. "Revan or not, he's lead us this far. And I know that he'll lead us the rest of the way."

Even though I'm pretty much entranced by the fields ahead of us, I can hear a very prominent snort from the man next to me. "You know that from your… game, then?"

"Well, yeah," I confess, after pausing to think for a few seconds. "Maybe I've still got a bit of hope. I don't really know why, especially after seeing this."

Canderous doesn't reply, the only sound is the wind rolling over the plains, but with them comes a hint of ash – both in smell, and it's making the air a little thicker than I remember. Over the past hour, the clouds have gotten ever darker, and thicker. Either it's going to start pouring on us, or it's some sort of side effect from the attack. Possibly both, given how I just heard some distant thunder.

I take one last look at the view in front of me, and finally turn back to our ship, which is only about twenty metres from where Canderous and I have been standing. This whole… looking for survivors doesn't seem to have worked out so well for us. I remember that Vandar and some of the Council managed to make it through this – but they must've gotten off the planet earlier. Or we've somehow missed them. I don't know, but it doesn't sound like we're going to be spending much more time here. I cover the ground between where I was and the _Ebon Hawk_ in about a minute, and perform the usual walk inside the darkened interior of the freighter.

It's normally fairly poorly light in the ship when the engines are off. Basically, there's no power to anything, not even the lights. Granted, there's some coming in from the front cockpit and the opened loading ramp. But, the obvious upside to that is that HK's eyes really strand out. "Greeting: It is a pleasure to see you again, meatbag."

"Really?" I go to the effort of sounding surprised, even though I'm not in the mood for HK's antics.

"Correction: Negative, psychotic one. I was simply attempting to evoke an emotional response."

"Well, aren't you funny, then?" I roll my eyes, biting my tongue. I'm really tempted to say something even more snarky, but I know it's really not going to do anything.

The footsteps from behind me are also a pretty good way of ensuring that I don't go ape-shit and piss HK off more than I already have… Assuming that I'm actually capable of doing that. Do droids get pissed off, or does HK just kill you? These are important questions, indeed, but I'm not really going to try and figure those one out. Especially not if I die as a result.

"HK, Stephen," Darius says, his voice carrying a hint of warning. Apparently either he was already aboard the ship, or he boarded just after I did. I spin around, finding that the latter is the case. "Main hold. Five minutes. I want both of you two to come up with everything you know about Korriban."

With that, the Jedi and Canderous practically storm deeper into the ship, presumably to get everyone else in the main hold in the allotted time. At least Korriban is pretty fresh in mind. Probably shouldn't mention anything from KotOR 2… Especially since Revan is supposed to run off into the Unknown Regions and the Jedi all get wiped out. That's a story for another time, but I probably shouldn't forget about it. Shit… I haven't really thought very much about K2, have I? I mean, that might be five years down the road, but still.

"You know anything interesting?" I smirk, happy to have a one-up over the unusual smug assassin droid. "About Korriban, that is. I don't want to hear some unique fact about how easily you can murder someone."

HK must have chosen to not to acknowledge that last bit, or he found an interesting loophole. "Fact: The first of your meatbag senses to cease functioning upon death is sight.'

"God damnit!" I snap. "For a droid, you've got quite an attitude."

"Query: Is it not the goal of a droid to be more than the sum of his programming?" HK asks, and I honestly can't tell if he's serious or not. Wait… It's an it, not a he, right? I'm so confused…

"Not unless you're Data," I shrug, taking a step towards the main hold, but stop, thinking better of it. I don't really like the idea of the assassin droid being right behind me… "Would you like to go first, mate?"

The machine blankly stares back at me, as if I said something that was in another language, one that it failed to understand. This isn't making me feel any better. Since HK's determined to make me go first, I round the corner, and step into the main hold of the _Hawk. _Similar to when we preparing to land on Manaan, there's a holographic image hovering over the centre table, a blue-tinted orb. This time, there's a lot more information around it, floating numbers and such of the sort.

Darius is standing at what I've considered the head of the circular table, with his back to the cockpit. Canderous is present nearby, too. Jolee is leaning against a bulkhead, furthest from HK and I. Zaalbar is to the right of him, right in front of the tunnel leading to the still open entry hatch. T3, though, is sort of just hanging to Darius' other side. HK moves in front of me, towering next to the astromech droid. Mission is, as usual, beside Zaalbar – so I stand to her left, beside Carth.

There's a bit more space between all of us, since Bastila is noticeably absent.

"Obviously, this is where we're headed," Darius starts our meeting off, gesturing at the hologram in the middle. "The last Star Map is on there. And it just happens to be where the Sith have set up their Academy."

"It's a desolate planet," Carth adds, "I believe there's only one small colony, that's run by the Sith."

"There's a lot of strange rumours about Korriban," Canderous says, "Rumour has it that Mandalore once went here. The only thing that anyone cares about down there is a series of tombs and caves."

Jolee, though, adds a bit more concrete information. "This isn't the first time the Sith have taken up residence on Korriban. They have something of a fascination with the planet. They're the only thing to worry about."

"Stephen, you know where the Star Map is, don't you?" Darius scowls, eyes narrowing.

I look up from the data that's hovering over the conference table. "That's right," I answer, thinking back to all the times that I played the game. "Canderous mentioned tombs. It's in one of them. There's a bit of a problem though. The Sith have sort of restricted access to it."

"Restricted? Are you sure about that?" Carth questions, much to my annoyance. "How are they able to keep security over old graves? And why would a Star Map be there?"

"Well, the Academy is pretty much right next to all the tombs," I explain, "The one with the Star Map is locked. Only students who are doing the final test can get in."

"I don't like where this is going," Mission frowns, "We all have to get into the Academy, don't we? And pose as Sith recruits?"

I shake my head. "Not us. Just you," I look pointedly at Darius, who raises a single eyebrow. "Basically, you've got to pretend to be a Sith until you can get in there."

"_That won't work_," Zaalbar growls, "_The Sith will recognise you as Revan_."

That's a fair point… Almost a plot hole that seems to get covered by the whole thing about how Revan always wore a mask or something…

"Apparently Revan… Apparently _I _used to always cover my face. That's the only reason I never found out until Malak told me," Darius muses, "We're going to have to be careful though. I'm guessing Malak isn't going to be broadcasting my return, which we can use to our advantage."

"It sounds risky," Carth comments, crossing his arms. "We _really_ don't know what we're going to find in the Sith Academy."

"It's no worse than breaking into the Sith Embassy on Manaan," Mission argues, "Maybe we could even use your identity of Revan if we need to. I'm sure some of the Sith aren't very loyal to Malak."

I dismiss that idea right away. "Nah, they won't believe that. They've been told Revan has been dead for years, and none of these Academy recruits are going to recognise you. They're a bunch of hopefuls."

"Suggestion: Master, if we are indeed infiltrating a training ground for our enemy, it is possible that we could damage much of their infrastructure." HK almost sounds gleeful at the idea, naturally. He wouldn't be HK if he didn't say something along those lines.

The Jedi leading our group nods a few times at that idea. "That's a fair point, HK. Anything we can do here might lead to the Republic's victory in a few months. However, finding the Star Map as quickly as possible is the primary objective. Anything else is secondary."

"I take it we're landing in that colony that the Sith run?" Mission asks, the Twi'lek leaning forward, arms reaching out to the table. She's not wearing her armour, which means she's wearing a sort of vest-like outfit. A moment later, I catch myself, realising that I've spent a good few seconds taking a rather long look. Oops.

"Czerka runs it," I correct, "And that won't be much of a problem, since we're ridding around in a smuggling ship…"

"That's assuming that the Sith haven't got our ship's ID codes, and blast us out of the sky before we land," Carth grimly adds, and I swear, I think he might be glaring at me. What did I do, honestly? Is this about the whole trust issue that he's got?

"We'll be careful," Darius reassures his fellow Republic officer. "Carth, you and T3 are going to take us off here, and as soon as you're able to – jump us straight to Korriban. Canderous, Stephen, you're both to wait by the turrets in case the Sith fire upon us."

I grin, the idea of a rematch with my Mandalorian comrade sounds pretty good to me. I make a point of showing my reaction to Canderous, who does not seem amused with me at all. How typical of him.

"Everyone else, you're dismissed. I expect it'll be about four hours to reach Korriban's atmosphere, so get some rest while you can."

Darius waves one of his hands, and a switch on my side of the table moves, making the holographic representation of Korriban evaporate. Using the Force much more casually, I see. It's actually kind of cool, I've got to admit. Even in an old game, there were quite a few applications of that mysterious power, and in the real world, there's even more. KotOR 2 had some really cool powers…

Oh my god. I think my heart just stopped.

There was more than once that Kreia pried into the crew's minds, and she taught the Exile how to do so. Or… Kreia will teach the Exile how to do so? Tenses… Regardless, that makes me question who else could do this. Bastila? Revan? The Jedi Council? This isn't good at all, and it's really freaking me out, I'll admit. I practically lived in that Enclave for a month! They could have all been reading my mind! And I think a lot.

I've got to look into this, this could be seriously bad. Shit.

"Hey there," Mission breaks me out of my alarming thoughts. When I come back to the real world, I realise that only HK, Canderous, Mission and I are left in the main hold. Zaalbar's lumbering off somewhere, maybe to take a nap. I might do the same. I'm not sure, but I think I haven't really gotten a decent amount of sleep since the _Leviathan_ mess. Just a few hours here and there between trips. Maybe the Academy will have some decent sleeping accommodations. The ones aboard the _Hawk_ are rubbish and small.

"Hey," I reply. The realisation that I haven't gotten a fair amount of sleep apparently also means that I feel quite tired. I rub my eyes, ignoring the pain on the right side of my face. I head towards my usual spot in the ship, the port crew cabin, with Mission in tow as well. "I don't know about you, but I'm suddenly surprised that I'm standing."

"You're not going to make another quip about me hitting you… are you?" Mission says, right as I walk into the cabin. I don't see Zaalbar here, so he must be off in the other side of the ship. Or somewhere else. I don't think he fits in these beds, anyways. Since they're sort of just shelves in the wall with foam on them.

"Not unless you hit me again," I joke. "There's only so much violence I can take in this relationship."

The normally spunky Mission doesn't' say much to that, and I suddenly realise why. This whole thing between us has been a ruddy mess since the beginning. Some days it's been better, even though things got pretty heated at the beginning. Before she found out the truth… Yikes. So, not the best of starts, that's for sure. Not when we probably should've taken a moment to think. And I was lying through my teeth. Then there was Manaan…

We haven't even really sat down and talked about it. Not with everything we've had to do. And there's the only thing about how I nearly enacted my whole 'I'm going to go fight Darth Malak' plan.

Oh, and just to add to the whole pile of woes, for the longest time, I struggled with the whole aspect of falling for someone I thought was a video game character. And, the first time Mission smacked me around, I think I said that I loved her. Honestly, I can't remember. How scummy of me… This whole thing is just a mess. And bringing it up, even with a joke, it makes me feel uncomfortable.

"Maybe we can call it an abusive relationship, then," Mission winks, relieving just a fraction of that tension.

I chuckle, nearly collapsing onto one of the bunks, having to duck my head to fit inside. Okay, here goes nothing. "You know… Speaking of which, I wanted to properly apologise for once. Since you stopped me from… Well, killing myself."

"I'm shocked," Mission says, taking a seat on the bunk beside me. "I never thought I'd hear anything other than 'sod off' from you."

"Very funny" I quickly retort, before trying to go back to a more serious conversation. "If things turn out right, we'll get to the Star Forge, and Bastila should come back to our side. But I was stupid for thinking I could just step in and just fix things like that, especially if … Well, if it meant that I died. Which means that you tried pretty hard to stop me from killing myself."

"And?"

"And I was an arse," I finish, groaning. "A proper one, too. I didn't think. Maybe I just failed to realise that if I died, someone would care, other than myself. And… That was selfish of me. So… I'm sorry. Feel free to hit me again, if you'd like."

There… I said it. Before I can stop her, Mission reaches out and lightly smacks the back of my head. Hey!

"You're an idiot," the Twi'lek shakes her head, hitting me lightly on the arm.

"But that's why you like me," I smirk, rubbing my arm. "I'm a very likeable idiot."

"I don't know about that…" Mission replies, "You're not half bad to look at, but likeable? That might be pushing it. Maybe it's just because we've been stuck together on this ship for weeks on end."

"You're so flattering," I can tell she's obviously not serious, barely holding back laughter. I snort, nearly losing my own composure as well. As soon as I regain it, I try to press on to something a little more serious. "Speaking of which, if I remember right, I think that you still owe me a date. We agreed, didn't we? On Kashyyyk…?"

Not the most subtle way of bring that up, but it's also not the worst I've ever done.

Mission frowns, not a very good sign for me. "That was before I found out that you had been lying to me, you know."

Oh, crap. Let's not get too deep into that territory. "Well, yes… Now that you know who I am?"

"Sounds like _you_ owe me a date," Mission corrects, "And I think you had better get working on that one, Private."

"Yes ma'am," I chuckle, relieved. "I was worried there, mind you. Since we haven't gotten things straightened out since… Well, a while, actually."

"Well you can keep worrying, but I'm going to sleep," Mission grins, slipping into a bunk across from mine. On her way, she disables the main lights, switching them to their red mode for night-time use. Honestly, my eyes are feeling really heavy, and I don't know if I can keep them open. Four hours of sleep, and we're off to Korriban. From there, the Unknown World and the Star Forge… Maybe we can bypass the Unknown World if we avoid the disruptor field?

Screw that, I'll think about it later. After all I've been subjected to over the past day, I want my sleep.

* * *

**Review please! **


	24. Chapter 24: …It Pours

Chapter 24: ...It Pours

"From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate."

~Socrates

**Author's Note: Off to the last Star Map planet, then! I apologize for the wait on this one, I had some personal things going on to be honest, and it didn't help that my computer was not with me during my winter break. So yeah, I'm really sorry about that. **

* * *

"It's not fair, if you know everything about me, you had better start coughing up some of your own information."

I groan, partially ignoring Mission, and partly because I'm heaving this massive plate of armour back over my chest. Given how I'm somehow even more tired than when I went to sleep, getting ready for a possible combat situation is even less appealing than normal. Maybe I'll break a limb or get beat up again, since that's my usual approach to everything. Somehow, with the exception of Mission wailing on me a few times, I've done okay recently, which is pretty surprising.

"Well, I'm not actually from Coruscant," I cheekily reply, finally getting my gear in place. Heavy, as usual. I grab my blaster as well, throwing it on my belt, along with a few extra power cells. "If you hadn't guessed."

Mission either didn't really pick up on the depth of my sarcasm, or she's not showing a big reaction to it. "Nope, you're from the mysterious place where games are made from other realities."

"Yeah, I guess. That's Earth. Though, honestly, I don't really know if this is just a single case or not. It's not even as if things are the same as they were in the game. You're not fourteen, for example."

"You're saying I was a kid in the game?" Mission frowns. Oops, I haven't really mentioned that whole thing before this. Ah, probably should have kept that small piece of information to myself.

"Erm, yeah, sort of…" I stammer, trying to steer the conversation more effectively. "Like I said, things are different. The big picture is pretty similar, though…"

"Well, I'm not fourteen," the Twi'lek emphasises. "Try eighteen. I know Griff left me on Taris when I was younger, but that young? Yeesh. No wonder you didn't like him."

"Yes, if you're eighteen, that means I'm older than you," I grin, taking whatever amusing advantage I can rub in Mission's face. For once, that is.

"No, you're not."

"I'm nineteen, actually… Guess you don't know me that well," I reply, looking into the small mirror in my locker. Armour seems to be on right, then. I turn around, seeing that Mission seems to be ready as well. "Apparently, I missed by birthday a week or two ago. I don't have my family to remind me of that, I guess."

"Not my fault you don't tell me anything," Mission raises an eyebrow. "Besides, age doesn't mean anything if I can at least hit a moving target that's further than five feet away."

"Low blow," I frown. "Brains over brawns, you know. So what if I can't shoot someone from twenty billion miles, anyway?"

"It means that you get shot by someone, and then you die."

I raise an eyebrow. "Well, that's a bit brutal. Why is it that in this universe everything is solved with gunfire and killing everyone? I can get that HK likes it, he's a bit of psychopath, but everyone else?"

Mission laughs, lightly shaking her head. "I suppose you'd like to have lunch with Darth Malak and discuss the finer points of morality and end the war with a debate? That usual on Earth?"

I take a few steps out of the cabin, heading for my spot outside the ladder to the gun turrets. "There were wars, but smaller… I suppose. The fate of all life didn't rest on them, or at least I didn't think so. And I most certainly wasn't involved with any of them. It's a very different place, you know. Not better, just… different. At least, I think so," I finish, realising that I'm sort of stammering over my explanation, and quickly move to wrap this bit up. "I could have been involved, I guess, I did think about going into the military back on Earth. I'm glad I didn't though."

"I can shoot, but I'm not like Canderous or Carth, either," Mission notes. "Taris was a rough place, and you had to know how to use a blaster, especially in the Lower City. It might have been a bit harsh, but that's honestly just how it is."

"And the Sith are the aluminium-wearing fools that we get to kill," I moan, thinking back to the planet that I first arrived on. It seems like it was so very long ago, but at the same time, I do remember it quite well. The Upper City with the Sith, the cantina and drinks, and the Lower City. And the Rakghouls, sewers, Vulkars and a Rancor. In all honesty, I can't say that I would list that planet on my favourites. With the exception of the assholes present on both planets, Kashyyyk and Manaan were quite nice. If I ever get the chance to go back to either of them, I'll have to remember not to go past the civilised areas. It's obviously not a good idea, unless being eaten by monsters is a lot of fun. Seems to be a common occurrence around me… There were those Kath Hounds on Dantooine I had a run-in with while we were there... Monsters are everywhere in this galaxy, and they will be on Korriban, too!

I groan aloud, realising that there's quite a few things awaiting us on Korriban, including those stupid flying things in the cave. And assuming everything is as it should be, there's also a Terentatek in there. Oh, joy, the news just gets better all the time. Not to mention the fact that there's quite a few Sith on this stupid planet.

"What?" Mission quickly asks, stepping out of the cabin and into the hallway, "You didn't forget to put a power cell in your blaster or something, did you?"

"No," I glare dramatically, "I just remembered that there's a crap-load of Shyracks and Sith here. I hate animals, since they all seem to be after me."

"Maybe you shouldn't let them!" Darius' voice calls out from the main hold. "Or you could actually shoot at them."

"That's so funny," I snort, following Mission into the larger open area of the _Ebon Hawk_. Much to my surprise, though, Darius isn't in his usual blue Jedi robes. Thankfully, he hasn't started wearing black ones with a mask. I'm not ready for a Dark Side Revan, and I don't think I could handle it. The fact that I'd have a good chance of dying on the Unknown World along with Mission and Zaalbar and Jolee. Better not think about that...

Regardless, Darius has the same armour he wore earlier on this quest, a medium armour plated in gold, a lot like the one I'm wearing. I think he said something about it being from Echani design. It's mostly just a chest piece, same as my military armour, but it sure looks nicer, a few dents, burns and bug guys aside. And judging by how little it affected Darius' combat performance on Kashyyyk, I'd have to say that it's a lot lighter. Or he just doesn't notice. He is Darth Revan the bad-ass, after all.

I squint, noticing that there's not a lightsaber in Darius' possession, but a blaster. Is it Halloween already?

No… Oh… A disguise. Damn, that was more obvious than I apparently realised. Good thing I didn't ask about that, but I might as well add the information I do know. "You know they don't care if you look like one of the Jedi, right? They ought to just say how they always get fallen Jedi on Korriban. Some of the potential students won't like you, but really, they'll be cross either way."

Darius scowls. "You should've told me that earlier, and then I wouldn't have had to wear this."

"Yeah, well," I shrug, leaning against a surprisingly cold bulkhead, "Just don't go around broadcasting the fact that you're Revan. They won't believe you and laugh in your face."

"I take it your knowledge encompasses the fairly obvious stuff, then," Carth dryly says, the older man standing behind Darius, closer to the cockpit. Does the ship just fly itself, then? We're still in hyperspace, judging by all the blue lights from the windows, but it sure doesn't make me feel any safer. Not that is really anyone's concern.

I frown. "There's a Twi'lek named Yuthura, she's the only one that can get us into the Academy. From there, the headmaster has a bunch of tasks we can do to get prestige. If you win, there's going to be a test you have to do alone with the headmaster. That's where you'll find the Star Map."

"Then we just leave?" Mission asks, seemingly not too worried about it. Oh, I haven't gotten to the good part. I'll have to fill Darius in on some of the details about the Star Map tomb. Weren't there two Terentateks in the cave? And the whole special ice grenade thing. Is that too much detail to go into? I don't want to hide anything from him, but at the same time I don't want to imply that he needs me to tell him every single thing that I know. I ought to find some form of a balance.

I shake my head, thinking back to some of the more difficult sections of the game – which can only mean it'll be even worse in real life. "Well, there's the bit where the entire Sith Academy goes and attacks us. At once. Students, Masters, guards… All of them."

"Statement: I enjoy the opportunity for slaughter, master!"

There's HK. I look away from the glowing orange eyes further down the _Hawk_'s hallway, and throw my face into my palm. Predictable bastard, and if this was different, that would have been pretty funny. But, since we're involved with the so called slaughter... Not so much. We all sort of awkwardly ignore HK's profound exclamation, quietly shuffling and none of us look the assassin droid in the eye… or rather, photoreceptor.

"I want to avoid that if at all possible," Darius frowns, "You're going to fill me in on any details that'll prevent a massacre in the Sith Academy as we go along. But let's first worry about finding this Yuthura."

"Well, do I get a cool armour to disguise myself?"

"Nobody cares that much about you," Mission points out, "Unless one of the Sith we didn't kill on Manaan or the _Leviathan_ happens to recognise a human teenager they briefly ran across."

I sigh with exasperation. "Alright, alright. You just want me to look like an ass in this heavy armour. Still, once we touch down, let's go for the cantina. Around those parts is the Twi'lek we need to get a hold of."

Carth doesn't seem quite as willing to believe what I'm saying. That's the Carth I know, isn't it? Untrusting to the very end. "You're sure the colony doesn't have some sort of defences that are going to target our ship the instant we enter Korriban's atmosphere?" Our shields aren't designed to take much firepower from land-based weapons. It's a smuggling ship, not a battle cruiser."

HK joins back into the conversation. "Analysis: My recently restored records indicate that the sole establishment on the planet of Korriban, Dreshdae, is maintained by Czerka Corporation. Czerka Arms and Manufacturing's Korriban branch is small, but draws in significant income, possibly from the Sith activity on the planet. With the exception of the Academy, there is very little Sith military presence."

"It wouldn't surprise me if there's a full-sized fleet in a neighbouring system," Mission comments, "But if they're in a hurry to get applicants into the Academy, the Sith aren't going to scare them away. Besides, a full school of Dark Jedi can handle things on the surface."

I nod. "I don't know for sure, but I bet Mission is right. I remember from…" I still feel so uncomfortable saying the game, which I've just lost. I wonder if anyone plays that back on Earth… Stupid, stupid game. "I remember that there weren't a whole lot of fighters or guards or anything of that sort. Besides, the idea of flying straight into Sith territory is enough to keep Republic or Jedi forces out of here."

"I don't like the idea of just walking into the Academy," Carth says. "It seems a bit too convenient."

"Until we get everyone all ready to kill us," I admit, thinking back to the whole ordeal with how the Sith are going to all fight us at once when we try to run out of the Academy after getting the blasted Star Map. I look up from my shoes to see Darius sort of glaring at me, and I sort of remember that he said he wanted to avoid that. Oh, right, right. Avoid being attacked by everyone, which means there's a very high probability of death. When I arrived in this dimension, I guess I never really sat down and figured out the worst parts of the game. The Academy coming up, as well as the Unknown World and the Star Forge?

Oh, god. I'm going to die!

All this time, I've been worried about Darius turning into Revan again, and killing half the party. I pretty much suck at fighting anything that moves, and if I lose all my hit points, I will fall down. Dead, that is. In real-life, you don't just come back up after the battle.

Breathe, Stephen. Remember to breathe at a consistent paste, you're going to freak out and hyperventilate.

I realise that Darius is still looking at me. "Of course, we're going to find another solution," I correct myself, my heart still pounding, a beating drum resonating within my skull.

The former Lord of the Sith nods with approval, looking thoughtful for a few moments before turning his attention to the first member of our group to join the party, Carth. "Do you and T3 have an estimation until we drop to normal-space?"

We all watch the Republic captain tinker with a control panel on the centre table for a few moments, presumably consulting the navigation systems for the ship. "Less than three minutes. Once we're in the Horuset system, it will take very little time before we land in Dreshdae, since Korriban is the only planet in the area."

"Very well," Darius says, moving away from the main hold and towards the front cockpit, "Just in case the Sith have the brilliant idea to shoot the ship that escaped from the _Leviathan_ out of the sky, let's be prepared. Same positions as our escape."

Still caught in my own thoughts, I take a few seconds before I nod my acknowledgement, at which point Darius is already gone. He really has something on his mind, he isn't acting the same anymore. I guess learning that you're actually Revan would do something to your head. I throw a shrug to Mission, and make my own way to the ladder just between the hold and engine room, where I find Canderous casually leaning against the bulkhead, clad in his usual heavy armour.

After what feels like a half-dozen times, I'm used to the sound of the engines as the _Hawk_ drops out of hyperspace, and the sublight drives kick in. I've made a slight effort to recall facts about the Star Wars universe since I've been here, not to mention I've pulled a bit data from the ship's libraries. A bit like Wikipedia, really. I've been pulling up broad knowledge so that I don't look like a dumb-ass all the time. At least it doesn't look odd that I've been doing some reading now, since everyone here knows my origin story.

Now, I wonder if those libraries have anything about not getting killed by a thousand Sith soldiers, Dark Jedi, and armed droids. Oh, and there's Rancors on the Unknown World, too. Assuming that I make it that far. Which, to be honest is quite an assumption.

Fuck. Why can't this be more like the game? Then I could level up past level zero. Because I've got lousy stats. No player in their right mind would pick me. Good thing there's no three person limit. Otherwise I'd be really familiar with the _Hawk_'s walls.

At least if the Sith do decide to shoot at us right now, I've got a big gun, and I don't have to rely on my own lousy skills to save myself. Those haven't proven to be useful so far.

"What are you moping about now?" Canderous snorts, not moving from the bulkhead. I ignore him for a moment, holding my breath for just a few seconds – something I do at times to prevent myself from blurting out a dumb response that's only going to piss people off. I normally have to employ it with HK, though.

I take a look at the ladder to the gun turrets, not eager to climb back in there. "You know, all the good stuff. Death, destruction, and everyone dying. Things that would make that assassin droid happy as all hell."

I think Canderous was expecting that, especially if he overheard the conversation that was going on just a few feet away. Besides, now I have to be open with everyone. More or less, I don't think I need to say about KotOR 2… All the Jedi gone? Not at the moment. "Every warrior has to face their fears, and even I thought you had managed to do that so far. Even the training from your actual homeworld can't be that bad."

"Oh, shut up," I groan, once again checking to make sure I'm ready for combat, if worse comes to worse. Blaster, armour, all good.

Knowing me, I'm sure there won't be any sort of peaceful resolution with the Sith. And, knowing my luck, I'll be swept up in the middle of things, and get a few limbs broken or severed.

* * *

As fun as it would have been to get in another gun turret competition with Canderous, the flight to Korriban was actual kind of boring, to be honest. The only noise was the engine, and while I know there's no noise in space or anything like that, it's freaking me out. I feel like I should be able to hear a bunch of Sith fighters flying by, laser cannons pointed right at us.

Still, I did get the enjoyment of sitting in the bottom gun turret, in a tiny ass cramped compartment. I hope that's not my usual spot, because I think I'm starting to get claustrophobic down there. I saw a few of those Sith fighters way off in the distance, but I couldn't really be sure. Though, I could barely see Korriban, and I had to get out once we were close to entering the atmosphere… Something about the shields for entering the atmosphere, I don't know.

I stretch my legs, then switch to pacing around the conference table as the ship sets down. I've done this quite a few times, and the temporary rocking motion passes quickly, followed by the hiss of the loading ramp opening. We're here, then. Korriban is just a few meters away. I know I've been really anxious before about certain planets on this trip… But I think this is even worse. But can it really be worse than the Rancor, the Sith on the _Leviathan_, Jagi, Kashyyyk's Shadowlands and Manaan's underwater station?

Well, I don't know… It very well could be.

"You ready?" Mission asks, the woman standing perfectly still, a stark contrast to my rather rapid pacing.

"Not really," I admit, deeply frowning. "I don't know if it's because I'm out in the open about what I know, or what… But I'm sort of panicking right now."

"Don't you always do that, though?"

Before I can come up with an adequate response, Darius and Carth quickly stride in from the cockpit, which sends a bit of a shiver up my spine for a couple reasons. First off, it might be some sort of psychological trick, but Darius seems to be looking more and more like Darth Revan all the time. Just the way he holds himself, the look in his eye. I just don't know. Regardless, the other problem is with Carth. Or rather, Dustil. That issue could come up really fast, and I'm just now patching things up with everyone, including the ever suspicious Carth…

In the words of Sam Beckett… Oh, boy.

Everyone else comes into the main hold rather quickly; Jolee, Canderous, Zaalbar, HK and T3 are all in here now as well. The two Jedi are clever enough to be wearing 'normal' clothes and hiding their lightsabers, while everyone else looks mostly as armed and deadly as normal. I would say HK doesn't look out of place as an armed guard, as neither does Canderous as a mercenary. Now that I think about it, Zaalbar looks pretty decent as a thug as well. Mission, Carth and I are using pistols – not out of the ordinary for somewhere like Korriban. Or anywhere in this blasted, fucked up universe.

I'd like to note that I've never had to walk around with a gun on Earth. Quite a bit safer, I think.

"Let's go," Darius mutters, "Just remember, be discrete."

I notice Darius' eyes rest on me for a fraction of a second longer than anyone else. Discrete, right. With the exception of Mission, I managed to hide the truth for quite a while. Oh, and HK-47, that bastard, outing me in front of everyone. That fucker, I've got to get back on him. Psychotic meatbag indeed, mother f-.

Cross as can be, I stomp out of the _Ebon Hawk_, and into the hangar bay in Dreshdae. I'm on Korriban… Not a bad place, plenty of mountains, red sky… Oh, and a shitload of Sith, speaking of which… I think it's just about time I try to tell Carth about Dustil.

"Carth," I call out, deciding to try and pull the same kind of move that I did with Mission on Tatooine, get things started right as we leave the Hawk. This should be quite a bit easier, simply because now everyone in the party knows about my screwed up origins.

Though really, I've got a feeling that if I don't mention this right now… I don't know, but it's something that I would rather avoid. Not to mention, Carth and I have never gotten along that well – especially not after the whole _Leviathan_ mission. So maybe this right here can at least get the ball rolling. So to speak.

I take a moment to bite down on my tongue after I've gotten the attention of the Republic soldier. "There was something I didn't mention back there. I wasn't sure if I should have or not; Darius seemed to be really focused on the mission."

Carth sort of blankly stares at me, looking damn sceptical. "There's always something with you, isn't there? And I figured you would pull something like this, and I'm glad to see that it didn't even take a full day. I suggest you get to the point already, I've had enough people pulling my leg."

"Right, sorry," I quickly apologise, nervously glancing at our new surroundings. Get to the point, you stupid idiot. "If I'm right, and if this plays out like I think it's going to, there's someone we're going to run into here. Your son, Dustil."

Bomb has been dropped.

Much as I expected, Carth double-takes, stopping behind the massive, lumbering Wookiee in front of him. The rest of the crew, though, has also come to a stop, right in front of a human Czerka employee who seems to be talking to Darius for whatever reason. Judging by what I know, I'd say that we're being forced to pay money to dock here. Ah, whatever. Darius ought to take care of that. Bastila isn't here to provide a moral lecture

"Dustil? He's alive? Are you sure? You didn't… misread your source?"

"Oy!" I snap, "I'd rather not broadcast that on this planet, you know." That's exactly what I need. The Sith would have a field day. The only positive would be that I could possibly see Bastila again. I'm not sure if that's even much of a positive. With any luck, though, that'll have to wait until the Unknown World. "But I'm sure, mate. He's an adult now, I guess about my age. But, umm… The bad part is that he's here, in the-."

"Carth? Carth Onasi is that you?" The Czerka lackey shouts, and nearly right away I recognise his voice. Jordo, that friend of Carth's that'll show up on a random planet without much warning or reason, really. Much like Griff's former girlfriend. Oh, the joys of triggering those quests. Alas, the usual luck seems to have rolled in a manner that our real-life NPC quest giver has showed up. Right when I started to explain things. Of course.

"Jordo? Is that you?" Carth says, turning his attention away from my rather important conversation.

"It is you! I knew it when I saw you get out of the Hawk! You old space dog, how have you been? I thought you would have been fighting on a ship, far from here."

"I was. Then I crashed," Carth bluntly explains, which only seems to amuse his old friend. However, Darius doesn't seem to be humoured at all. I can't make up my mind if he looks bored or slightly cross.

Jordo doesn't notice our leader's growing agitation, however. "That's pretty rich. I can't imagine what it would take to keep you from the fight. Must have something to do with your friends here, eh?"

"You bet," Darius interjects, moving his hand quickly from his blaster pistol and moves it right across Jordo's face. "We don't have to pay the docking fee. We can go on in."

"Uh, you don't have to pay the docking fee," the Czerka employee says, seemingly unaware of what Darius had just done. "You can all go on in. Carth, I'd like to talk to you first, if that's alright."

I silently watch as Carth and Darius exchange tense looks. Thankfully, the former Dark Lord just nods. I stand firmly next to Carth, nodding when Darius glances at me. Hopefully that'll get my point across without saying anything.

"We'll be in the colony," Darius informs us, already moving towards the landing bay's exit. "You two can find us in there when you're done. Remember, we've got work to do, and time is not on our side."

"You're working with a real ball-buster," Jordo mutters, as soon as Darius is out of sight. "I almost forgot how the military types are. I haven't dealt with anyone like that since… Well, not since Telos, actually. It's a shame about home. But I moved on, that's why I'm working with Czerka."

"Still, you going to introduce me to your more well-mannered friend then?" Jordo finishes, raising an eyebrow, extending a hand in my direction.

"Stephen," I say, not adding my surname, but I do shake Jordo's gloved hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Jordo smirks, "Listen, Carth. I wasn't sure if you knew about Dustil. I saw him on my last stop in the Sith Academy. He didn't recognise me, but I didn't think that you would have known he was there, since he's joined their ranks there…"

Carth blinks. "You mean that he's one of the Sith in the Academy?"

Jordo solemnly nods. "I didn't figure you knew. He's a student there, suited up in their outfit and everything. At least he's alive, though… My condolences to your wife, I heard what happened during the attack."

"I didn't know. Thanks for telling me, Jordo." Carth puts a great deal of emphasis on the man's name, which I can tell is some sort of jab at me for not explaining things earlier. Damn my luck, useless crap.

Jordo's happier mood seems to vanish, and the man speaks in a much more hushed tone. "Sure, no problem. It was good to see you again, Carth. Hope everything works out with Dustil."

I nod my own farewell, as the older man walks off to tend to his own duties. "Well, there you have it, from the horse's mouth. Dustil will be in the Academy, and we're going to have to convince him to leave. He's not going to like you being there, I'll tell you that."

"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" Carth scowls. "We're going to have get Darius and everyone else involved. And if Revan isn't so focused on getting to Malak, maybe we can spare enough time to get Dustil out of here before it's too late."

I take a deep breath. "That seems to be the theme recently. Speaking of time, let's see if we can catch to everyone else before they manage to get in a huge fight with a bunch of Sith thugs."

The older man takes a deep breath, seemingly putting aside his own issues for the time being. I've got no doubt that we'll deal with that later, but for right now Carth and I start heading towards the single door sealing the Sith colony from the landing bay where we've parked the Ebon Hawk. There's a green-skinned Twi'lek clad in the grey uniform that all the Sith have been using, standing guard over the door, I guess. He doesn't say anything, but taps his console quite a few times and the door opens in front of us. Much like in the game, the colony of Dreshdae is a bunch of grey metal corridors – similar the _Leviathan_. Except, the walls aren't at an awful angle. They're somewhat normal. For a Sith place, anyways.

"Do you think it's likely that any of the students or Sith here are going to attack us? I'm not exactly feeling comfortable here."

"Just don't do anything particularly stupid," I whisper, noticing that the two of us are getting an usual amount of looks from the Sith that are pretty much lined up in here.

"That's your area of expertise," Carth adds, much to my dissatisfaction.

I ignore the quip, keeping my eyes straight ahead, seeing that there's a Sith of some sort at the end of this first hallway – along with a few humans and a Twi'lek are sort of cowering in front of him. Oh, great. I take it this is one of the asshole guys who are also aiming to get into the Academy. I hate competition, and this might be of the worst kind. Seriously, like I told Darius – some of these Sith have one hell of an attitude problem.

I try to just slip past… And nope. Of course not. Things are never that simple, are they?

"What's this?" the human taunts, attention no longer focused on the collection of beings in front of him. "Don't tell me, you're another young, stupid hopeful. But if that's the case, why have you brought your father with you?"

I can practically bathe in the sarcasm. Not even thinking about it, I reach for my blaster pistol. Bad idea… I relax just a bit, but the Sith notices what I nearly did. Naturally, he laughs. Cocking bully. That's all these Sith really are, right? Bullies with red lightsabers.

"Think you can use that weapon against me?" The Sith chuckles, aggravating me even further. I can practically feel Carth breathing down my neck, and I wouldn't put it past him to hold me back if things get too nasty or I do something really thick. "Do it, then. Let's see it, unless you're just a coward with a blaster. You'll never get anything better than that weapon."

I grit my teeth, ignoring the awful sensation it makes when I do so.

The nameless Sith keeps going, though. "I didn't think so. Does anyone even have any use for you, then? You're just a kid with a blaster. We don't want reckless orphans, either-."

Whatever the bloke was getting ready to say is cut off, given how I somehow reached for my blaster and pistol-whipped him clean across the face.

Shit. That wasn't exactly the best decision I've ever made. When I come back to my senses, I stare at the firearm clenched my hand, my knuckles white and my body practically shaking with anger. And I can't really place my finger on a solid reason why I just did that. I've honestly said worse to myself. Thought lower of myself. But it's different to hear it from a Sith asshole, and I'm sorely tempted to pull the trigger a few times for this guy.

Next thing I really know, my blaster flies out of my hand and into the wall on my right side. My ankle snaps to one side, as if I had taken a particularly poor step. Pain shoots from my right foot all the way up to my waist – the same side that I've mutilated a surprising number of times already on this journey. Trying my best to put aside the pain, I look up to see the same Sith addressing his band of followers.

"So, what should I do to this whelp? A bit of Force lightning? Or should I simply kill him? There is no place for weak amongst the Sith."

"Sod off," I clench my teeth, whispering, and refusing to reveal the true amount of pain I'm in right now. Damn, this ought to teach me a lesson. Provided I don't get killed first. That's a very real possibility at this rate.

The Sith above me starts to look a little bit strange, all the colours are super fucked up. The details in the background are fuzzy, and the edges of my vision are kind of fading. Whew, that was one blow to my head, I think. At least Mission never smacked me this hard. Because things are getting worse… and darker, too. The sound of the shitty lights above sound like their coming from a seashell… By the sea shore!

Now there's a steady beeping, that's pretty weird. Sleep sounds awfully good right about now, I've got to say…

A voice sort of echoes in the back of my skull, and I don't think it's my conscience. A dude, I think. "I mean, he is in some form of trouble again. At this rate, he will slip into unconsciousness, and there's no guarantee that death will not occur in the next few minutes."

The next voice sounds a lot like Selena, I think… "There isn't anything we can do, but I'll be damned if we have to push anyone else through another anomaly. They're waiting for the eventual results…"

The sound cuts out, much to my own confusion. I don't even have time for that woman, for fuck's sake. I'm going to get killed!

Snapping me out of my daze, my throat violently constricts, cutting off air to my lungs. I can barely breathe, which isn't much of a trade-off. Fuck fuck fuck! This might be it, then. Choked to death as if I was one of Darth Vader's lackeys.

"Don't you have something better to do?" Carth says, probably scowling as usual. The vice around my neck vanishes, oxygen now flowing into my body. Oh, god, thank you. I won't complain as much anymore… Though if I'm being honest, I can't see if Carth is up to anything. Noticeably, I can't see whatever the Sith asshole is doing either. Wait… I'm complaining again. Shit, that effort lasted quite a while.

I can hear him snort, though. "Saving the brash, impulsive fool? I hope you're not looking for a spot in the Academy. I've got better things to do than entertain you lot."

I don't even think about getting up, not even when a metal boot comes crashing down on my injured leg as the Sith leaves to do whatever it is he finds so interesting. I try to steady my breathing, crawling up against the nearby wall. Thankfully, the only person here that seems to be paying any attention to this ordeal is Carth. That's more than enough embarrassment for me at the moment.

"So, what to do think? Think my past helps at all?" I miserably mutter, basically crawling until my armoured back smacks against the small bench bolted onto the wall. "This is third time I've gotten screwed over in a stupid way. And you know what? I don't even belong here…"

"None of us really do, but moping doesn't do a damn," Carth says, "You don't belong here, but I can damn well ask you where Bastila is at now." I don't say anything, much more content to wallow in my own self-pity.

"Look," I mutter, "I'm just saying nobody gave me a paper to sign, they just fucking threw me out here and I lost everything and had to lie to the only people that helped me. You know what the last thing I ever said to my parents was?" I pause for a moment, trying to remember, my heart rapidly sinking. Not coming up with anything, I sort of take another look around, partly because I'm not sure where my blaster ended up. "I can't even remember. But it doesn't even fucking matter does it?"

Carth just sort of blinks, but follows my gaze, and retrieves my weapon from under a nearby bench. Thank god all the bystanders walked off, I feel… embarrassed. Like I've been disowned at school all over again. The Republic soldier kicks the weapon towards me, the gun sliding across the floor. I can't tell for sure, but it kind of looks like one of the sides is dented, as well as the handle.

Once I grab the pistol, Carth finally says something in reply. "It does – but what we're doing here matters even more. Look at what we're doing, and where we are. We're all needed, as useless as you might feel, we've got to get through this."

"I am useless," I admit, getting to my feet. I don't put a lot of pressure on my bad leg, so it takes a few more seconds. "You could probably recruit a monkey and it would be more useful. Now all I am is a glorified source of information. Yippee."

"As that may be," Carth comments, "We need to find Darius, before he gets admitted into the Academy without us."

"Yeah, right," I scoff, starting to carefully walk again. I try my best to push the past few minutes behind us, "I'm alright, thanks for asking. They're going to be further down. There's some Sith thugs, so they might be held up dealing with some jokers."

Carth starts walking in that direction, and I notice that he might not be the best choice for anyone in disguise. His back is completely rigid, stiff. Military types, I guess. At least we're somewhere where that doesn't matter too much. I follow the officer down the corridor and into a much larger room, with a shop in the middle, run by a Rodian. There's a few more Sith out and about here, mostly around the edges of the room.

There's a few right by the next doorway, with a blonde woman in the middle. Oh, her. I hate her, if I remember correctly. Lashowe, I think her name was…

"Watch out for this one," I whisper, "I think Darius might have already gone through here, her and her gang were trying to get a laugh out of them."

One of Lashowe's minions takes note of Carth and I, loudly chuckling when we're within a "Oh, look, more of them." The Sith raises his voice, getting everyone else in Lashowe's little group focused on us. "Want to get these ones, Lashowe? They don't even look like they're fallen Jedi. Should be easy prey."

"Alright, I'll get that orange droid you just met after you if you don't piss off," I frown, trying to think of something that'll get these bastards away from us and off tormenting someone else.

I'm not sure that'll work, and the same Sith quickly retorts. "You haven't got a clue, do you, kid?"

I can see Carth's arm barely inch towards his sidearm, but Lashowe sounds almost bored with this whole situation. "Let them go, I'm not in the mood to screw with anyone else. We're going back to the Academy, before scum like them try and join up as well."

I watch the four Sith, including Lashowe sulk back through the next corridor, towards the Valley where the Academy was in KotOR. That damn woman, I really hope that Darius does the whole holocron shit. I just stare blankly as the Sith walk off, shrugging at Carth. After another moment, Carth and I head down the hallway, which is slanted downwards, much like the design found on the _Leviathan_.

"Looks like the droid was right," Carth points out, "Czerka seems to have quite a sizeable set-up here. I guess that crippling their operations on Kashyyyk didn't actually do anything worthwhile here."

I take a peek at the Czerka office as we pass by, but I only add a comment at the lovely little cantina sign, reading the print aloud. "The Drunk Side. Well, that's something else, eh?"

"At least Darius and the others are in there," Carth dryly notes, nodding in the direction of the golden armoured human just inside the doorway, flanked by everyone else in the party – HK and Canderous towering over the rest. Well, except for Zaalbar. Unlike Taris and Tatooine, there isn't a whole lot of noise inside. A few clients are busy inside; either in Czerka or Sith uniforms are quietly drinking, but not talking. The sound of glass scraping against metal is the only really prominent noise, but otherwise it's just the flow of liquid into glasses, and the hum of overhead lighting. It's kind of eerie, just like the rest of this damned colony.

"What did you do to yourself?" Mission asks, looking damn confused. I quickly glance at Carth, who doesn't answer for me. Huh. As much as Carth doesn't really like me it seems like, he didn't just say something along the lines of: yeah, Stephen went and got pissed off, got himself screwed over and was all angst-mode for a moment.

So, if we're going to omit that fact, how did I get strangled to death, and nearly break my leg, again? Uh, first thing that comes to mind! Quick! "Uh, I tripped."

Mission sighs, but it's HK that delivers the last blow. "Commentary: Perhaps you would like a cybernetic replacement, mentally unstable meatbag?"

I make a rude face, but wipe it once Darius glares at me. Fine, take the bleeding droid's side, would you!

"Did you get into the Academy?" Carth asks, the man steering the subject away from the usual. "At the very least, you seem to have found the Twi'lek back there."

Yep, there's Yuthura, sulking back there. Thanks to her dark outfit, darker skin and tattoos, she practically blends in back there. Even from this distance, though, I can spot the glint of a lightsaber strapped to her belt. I do love those, since they can effortlessly cut limbs off. Possibly my own limbs.

Much to my surprise, Darius smirks, pulling up a black medallion. "We're due at the Academy in about fifteen minutes. They're bringing all the new candidates there to meet with the headmaster. We've run into one of those recruits, real piece of work. Sounds like there's a bunch of tests to determine who gets the apprenticeship."

"Not the best method," Canderous snorts, "Five applicants and the Sith only get one Dark Jedi from all that? No wonder they haven't been able to take the Core Worlds."

"_Perhaps the Sith are more concerned with strong warriors, not numbers,_" Zaalbar growls from next to Canderous. "_Especially if there are able to use that Star Forge to build ships."_

"Yeah, but the Dark Jedi haven't been that competent, Big Z," Mission pipes up, though she's still looking at me strangely. Do I look that bad? "Remember Malak's apprentice?"

Darius' attitude quickly changes, smugness evaporating in a bit of a flash. "Remember Malak. Not to mention, you would have been surprised by some of the Dark Jedi on the _Leviathan_."

"I would still pass more of the runts here," the Mandalorian argues, "at the very least, they're cannon fodder. And if Bastila does join their side, even inept Sith are going to perform much more effectively than before."

I whimper at the mention of cannon fodder, an act unnoticed by anyone besides HK, given that his hearing is obviously much better than everyone else's. Well, T3 should have been able to hear that as well, but he's a bit nicer than the assassin droid.

"Must have been quite a fall you did there," Jolee comments, voice a bit quieter than the debate hosted by the rest of the group. Even though it sounds like they're still talking about military issues, we're headed out of this small little colony and back out into the valley.

"What? Just tripped, that's all," I quickly lie, but the realisation that my story isn't the most convincing. I am really starting to wonder how bad I look. Is it really that obvious that I've gotten myself banged up again? My leg does hurt like a bitch, and I'm limping. Not to mention my throat feels really… raw.

"You're getting better at lying every time, but you're not quite there yet."

"Fine, you show me how to lie, then. But really, you'd be shocked at how badly I can trip over myself. It was more than tripping, but worse things can happen. Did anyone ever tell you that I took cover in front of a door on Taris? It opened, and I feel and messed myself up pretty nicely."

Jolee laughs at that. "Seeing you get hit by that Czerka shield on Kashyyyk, I can certainly believe that. Everyone has had their share of incidents when they're young and foolish. You just seem to have more, given your history. You should have seen some of the things that I got into when I was smuggling."

"Even though I've heard you say it, sort of… it still sounds absurd that you used to be a smuggler," I briefly smile, a bit pleased to be off the topic of death and combat. "If you don't mind me asking, how did the Jedi Council lecture you on that one? Seems pretty un-Jedi like if you ask me."

For the most part, it seems like Jolee might poke at my origins, but he's not actually all against me like everyone else. Well, that's a bit dramatic, but I really do think that HK is truly against me, that bastard. I really need to find some way to get at him.

"Probably in the same condescending manner they use with everyone else. They would expect nothing else than the highest level of perfection and adherence to the Jedi Code."

"Trust me," I reassure the man, while stepping outside the metal confines of Dreshdae, and onto the rock pathway straight towards the Academy doors. In the distance, mountains stand watch over the whole area, blocking the view of the red sky and the setting sun of the same colour. "I've been familiar with uh, our mutual female Jedi friend for a while. And meeting here, as well as the Council, I've got no doubt."

"See, they won't ever change, and that's their problem. They're fighting former Jedi and a war like the Masters haven't seen for a long time. That's why they stayed out of the Mandalorian War, you see. They refuse to change, and one day that will drive them to their end."

"Awfully grim," I squint, the sun coming into view, right between two of the mountains. "But did you give that impassioned speech to them however many years ago?"

Jolee snorts at the idea. "Of course not, they wouldn't even give me the chance. You have to have had some idea why I ended up on Kashyyyk, instead of staying with the Jedi and becoming one of the famed Knights? Especially after that first war?"

"I guess they're at least good at not listening, right?" I raise my eyebrows for emphasis. "I hope Vrook wasn't on the Council back then, I can't stand him."

We're only a few feet from the massive front door, guarded by a single Sith trooper, aluminium-clad of course. Don't they need more than one? Still, it's just like the video game, including the rather unusual black door. Jolee turns his head to continue our conversation. "He wasn't, but most of the Council thinks a lot like him, based on what Darius there had to say about Vrook. Only a certain kind of Jedi can make it on the Council, and they make all the decisions in that Order."

"And they're determined to stick with what worked in the past or bury their hands under the sand, is that what you're saying? Because they run a sort of dictatorship there?" I ask, starting to understand what he's getting at. Normally I would have tried to talk about something else, but KotOR 2 might happen still, and that's a pretty big deal if I'm really never going home.

Oh, goodness, I'm trying to get knowledge for things that will happen five years from now? I'm really staying here for good, then. Unless I can get my hands on Selena… No, no, I'm not worrying about that now, otherwise I'll just be even more cross than I already am.

"A dictatorship? That's a stronger phrase than I would have used, and more dramatic as well. But you're young enough that everything has to be presented that way, right? Now, you're looking for a tyrant, check the Sith. Better not say that too loudly, though. That Twi'lek sure looked like she wouldn't bat an eye at having us all killed."

"So, the good guys aren't above criticism, is that the point of all this?"

"Do you need a point? You really should just listen and not try to delve into things so much. Always eager to get an answer," Jolee taunts, going back to his old man routine. "You're starting to sound like the Jedi, there."

"Alright, alright," Darius interjects, apparently done with his own conversation. "Enough talking about the war, I've got to make an entrance here."

I bite my lip, slightly frowning in protest. "I wasn't talking about war or cannon-fodder. Administrative matters, actually."

"Which is still an element of waging war on any sizeable scale," Darius corrects, the Jedi whipping out his black Sith medallion once again, displaying for the sole guard to see and verify.

The Sith takes a few moments to finish looking at the item, and consults briefly with a small datapad. "I don't recognise you; I'm going to need your name. Unless you want me to summon the headmaster out here to deal with you."

"Darius Rayner," our leader supplies the name given to him by the Jedi, "Yuthura said she was going to grant me access. I'm an applicant to the Academy here."

The trooper nods, putting aside the datapad. "And what of your followers? A mercenary, Wookiee and combat droid aren't exactly welcome in the Academy."

"They're slaves," Darius says dismissively, putting on a mask of contempt as he glances at the party. "Yuthura and I already discussed it, they'll be no problem. If they do, I will take full responsibility and execute them myself."

Mental note, I really should behave myself.

"They're going to have to sleep outside the building, we don't have enough rooms for servants and minions." When Darius nods in understanding, the Sith continues with his little speech. "Very well," the Sith lackey says, stepping aside and saluting to Darius as the door opens. "Welcome to the Academy, student."

The former Dark Lord returns the gesture, stepping over the threshold and into the school of the Sith. What a lovely place, dark and made of stone, a darker material than the rocks outside in the mountains. The place is a stark contrast to the colony of Dreshdae, which was brightly lit, angular and had more metal than the two droids in our party. This place feels ancient, almost like a poorly lit Egyptian pyramid. Not perfectly constructed, but the Sith Academy sure has history. There's a tickling feeling on the back of my neck, and a slight itching sensation deep in the recesses of my skull.

"Yuthura said they've probably already started," Darius mutters, stepping up his pace.

After a dimly, barely lit entryway, the room we're thrown into is a circular chamber, dark halls branching off in all directions; north, east and west. The ceiling in this particular is quite high, at least ten meters high. Quite a few Sith guards and students clad in grey uniforms wander through the edges of the halls and rooms. A man stands right in the centre of all this, clad in the very same outfit that all the students are, but just a shade darker. The man is bald, but he seems to have a similar set of tattoos as Yuthura. That means we're looking at Uthar Wynn. A Sith bastard of a headmaster.

Speaking of which, I forgot to mention in the whole double-cross setup with Uthar and Yuthura. How the hell is that going to go down? Especially since I remember that the outcome of that quest determines whether or not the Academy decides it would be fun to kill us all on sight.

"You again?" Lashowe scowls, hateful eyes locked on Darius. "Master Wynn, I recognise this one from the colony. Unworthy, if you ask me."

The headmaster speaks for the first time in our presence, his low-pitched voice surprisingly dry. The way he speaks leaves no reason to think about questioning him; he's not like Malak, but he is a rather commanding figure. "I'll judge that for myself, thank you. A human, then. Strong in the Force, I believe."

"He's had some training, with the Jedi," Yuthura adds, walking into the building from behind us and striding straight through the party.

"The Jedi?" Uthar smirks, amused perhaps. "They must have been typically foolish to let you slide through their grasp. Your objections are wasted, Lashowe. Now that we are here, are you willing to embrace our ways, and seize your position within the Sith?"

"I am, Master," the blonde answers. "More than ready."

The headmaster nods in approval, and I've got the feeling we walked in late to this party here. I watch in silence as Uthar goes through the other candidates, seemingly pleased with his selection of pupils. I notice that one of them is the same man that nearly killed me back in the colony. Still, the headmaster stops with Darius, a man once far more powerful than anyone else in this room. "And you, the late entry? Yuthura seems to think that you have promise, even if you seem to have a small army at your disposal. Tell me, what do you think of the Sith?"

I raise an eyebrow, but Darius provides a reasonable answer nonetheless. "They're a powerful force to be reckoned with, and are quite capable of wiping out the Jedi, and the Republic."

"A diplomatic answer, but accurate," Uthar sneers. "So, human, you are ready to join us here in the Sith?"

"Of course."

"None of you are true Sith, not yet," Yuthura quickly adds, "You'll have to earn that title, and only one of you will be actually joining us. Master Uthar and I will have to be sufficiently… impressed before you undertake the final test."

Okay, everything is panning out normally. Hopefully I can help provide Darius with some information, that'll speed the selection process up. I notice all the students in the room quietly nodding, even the brash and rude Lashowe is humbled in front of the Sith Master. A few more moments later, the other Sith students go their own directions, presumably towards their dormitories. I guess we missed the grand tour of the place, then.

Rather than follow suit, Darius turns around to face us. "You're all going to have to stay back on the _Ebon Hawk_ overnight. We've only got a few hours before sundown, and from what they say here, we're going to have wait until morning until we head into the Valley of the Dark Lords."

"Sounds like a lovely place," Jolee comments. "Do they include a travel brochure?"

"They've got a lot that would help gain prestige," I quickly add, before anyone comes asking me for questions.

"First thing in the morning," Darius says, "I want the rest of you to head back to the ship, except Carth, T3 and HK. We're going to scour the Academy overnight, and we'll meet back up with you outside the Academy's entrance."

"And are you planning on sleeping at any point?" Mission questions, though Darius doesn't answer, a bit surprising. For the most part, he was always pretty easy to work with. Have we switched to pulling teeth? Things are getting a bit more troubling more and more every day.

Darius takes a moment, hands running down the front of face. "Carth, you're going to need to fill me in, fast. The rest of you should get moving, we've got a lot of ground to cover."

He's acting strangely, that's for sure. I don't know what to make of this. The clock is ticking, the Unknown World is inching closer, and on that world, Darius very well make the choice that could kill of all us, and plunge the galaxy into darkness.

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**Review please!**


	25. Chapter 25: Spelunking and Potholing

Chapter 25: Spelunking and Potholing

"He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed."

~Albert Einstein

**Author's Note: Thanks so much for all your continued reviews, subscriptions and support. It means a lot to me, even more than Derpy having a speaking role. Er, yeah. Really, not kidding here. **

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Mission was right about one thing, I look pretty much awful. Just looking in the mirror, I see a young adult with messy, unkempt long hair – and a surprising amount of stubble coming in. My eyes are a little bit bloodshot, a stark contrast with the black pupils and brown irises. There's a sizeable bruise across the left side of my face, and I've just noticed that there's a very uneven suntan around the top of neck and face, and hands.

My leg is a piece of work, but there's nothing more than the constant, persistent discomfort at the moment. I'm just slightly limping, but it's not unbearable anymore. Mission nearly had a fit when I told her what actually happened when we got back to the _Ebon Hawk_. That was sure an eventful occurrence, getting Force chocked by a Sith. Something I hoped to avoid, really. Though having someone hound me about it hours later sure didn't help.

And what the hell that was with Selena? I wonder if I scream her name really loudly, maybe she'll show up… Probably not, but I'm not in the mood for being in the dark. A bit hypocritical, given how I lied to everyone for quite a while, but screw it.

As awful as I look, I can't imagine I'm going to look any better after today. Darius, Carth, HK-47 and T3-M4 were all running off last night throughout the Academy, apparently never planning on sleeping. Even if they've wrapped up everything they could possibly manage inside the Academy, we're going to have a lot of ground to cover in the Valley of the Dark Lords. There's at least three tombs, and a cave. With flying monsters! And a Terentatek. If I hadn't been here this long, I would say that it doesn't seem very likely that there are going to be so many vicious animals.

Sadly, BioWare got that detail correct. Every planet, every room seems to maintain the tradition of being filled by beasts and hounds. At least the invisible ones are in KotOR 2. But, that being said, the wild Rancors are on the Unknown World.

Done checking myself over, I head out of the tiny cramped bathroom, and squeeze my way through the medical room. The ship is on low power, so none of the lights are on their bright setting. However, two small red lights are at essentially eye level, increasing and decreasing in brightness. Did some idiot put underpowered strobe lights right in the hallway? I get that there's no light out here, but it's not funny.

I follow the glow of the twin lights, realising they're not actually in the wall, but in some sort of orange structure that nearly blends in with the wall. Given how dark it is outside the main hold and cockpit, that's not surprising, but I sure recognise the figure. It's HK, my favourite bloodthirsty machine. Kind of strange, because I thought he was supposed to be with Darius in the Academy.

"Oh, you're here," I growl, "I thought you were somewhere else."

HK's voice drawls over the low hum of the lights. "Answer: My master had sent me back to his ship only an hour ago, in order to retrieve all meatbags for assignment."

"I really don't like you," I groan, not ready to head back out into the hot, sunny valley. I didn't get enough sleep, for starters. A usual occurrence, but it seems to be getting worse. I remember… I remember having a dream, or a nightmare, but I can't recall what it was. Most certainly nothing important, the answers to my problems aren't going to be found in my dreams, but it's not helping my whole not sleeping case at all.

"Statement: Your emotional response to my existence is hardly relevant. However, if you would like, my opinion to your own continued survival is quite negative. As it is for all meatbags, of course."

"Fuck off," I say, not amused by the droid's regular verbal abuse.

"Query: As much of your speech patterns are not used by most meatbags, I must request that your clarify that particular phrasing, Especially given that you use the term 'fuck' on a somewhat regular basis."

No fucking way. HK is asking me this? "Uh, it means … I don't know, its slang for sex, but everyone just uses it as a curse word, for extra emphasis. I've heard some people here use blasted or something along those lines. I just have my own ways of saying things."

"Analysis: You possess a unique dialect, with slight differences in word choice, and pronunciation, though your speech most closely matches Basic that is being used by meatbags on Coruscant. Statement: Therefore, when you comment: "Fuck off," HK switches to a perfect voice imitation of how I just sounded a minute ago, much to my disdain. Voice duplication for the purposes of mockery, I freaking forgot about that. Just another gun in HK's armaments against me. "You are not actually suggesting that I engage in pointless meatbag mating rituals."

"You've got to be kidding," I mutter, "It means that I hate you, and I you should go die, essentially. But don't take it too personally; it's almost a term of endearment."

"Statement: You are attempting to antagonise me, psychotic meatbag."

"Yeah, it doesn't work, does it?" I sarcastically ask, stepping around HK-47, and into the _Hawk_'s garage area. The small garage is where we keep the rarely used swoop bike, as well as the workbench used for weapon repairs and things of the like. I've seen Darius over there once fixing up his lightsabers there. Last night, Mission taught me a little bit about basic weapon design, as well as got the dent out of the barrel of the blaster. The handle is still a bit messed up, but I feel better about holding the weapon in my hand, knowing how it works, and how to fix a problem on the battlefield.

Only took six weeks.

I can hear HK walking behind me, metal feet clanking against the deck. "Statement: Meatbag, everyone but the Twi'lek and yourself are waiting outside the vessel, prepared to depart at the earliest opportunity. Reminder: My master's instructions were specific, to bring all members of this collection of tortured individuals back to him. For some reason, he did not feel as if my knowledge and capabilities were sufficient for the mission at hand."

"Perhaps he didn't want to listen to you all day," I suggest, snatching my blaster from the workbench, checking the safety very briefly before sliding it into my waist holster. Power cell is there, along with my reloads. After an elementary gun safety lesson, I have a lot more respect for it. The blaster might be low-end, but it's still a weapon, and all it takes is a squeeze, and it can easily kill, something I've done. There are two types of people with weapons, she told me, ones who haven't had a misfire yet, and those who have. Basically, it's not a toy, and only drawn if one means to kill. That's something I never learned from films and television. Hollywood and its rather liberal interpretations of gun safety…

"Commentary: I would presume that if my master had grown weary of my rather smug personality and observations of meatbags – he would certainly not ask for your presence."

"Mission!" I call out towards the starboard dormitory, Mission's normal spot, since she and I are the last ones left on the ship.. Apparently, anyways. I head out the open loading ramp, HK in tow. Since he's still following me, I quip back to the droid. "At least I don't go around rampaging about killing all life forms and variants thereof."

"Interjection: In comparison, I do not possess psychological traits that are detrimental to mission objectives, and am far more capable with a variety of weaponry."

"You're not one for humour, either," I dryly note, my eyes quickly readjusting to the light from Korriban's sun.

A few moments later, the hiss of the loading ramp shutting fills my ears, along with Mission's voice. "Ladies, could you two behave? Just for a few minutes?"

"He started it," I quickly answer, getting my input in first. I wait a moment for Mission to catch up with the psychopathic droid and I, then resume walking towards the rest of the group, who are seemingly huddled together at the far end of the hangar bay, near the entrance to Dreshdae. No Carth, Darius or T3, so they must be at the Academy. That just leaves Mission, HK, Zaalbar, Jolee and Canderous to mess with en route.

"Correction: For the purposes of presenting a clear truth, this meatbag initially switched the tone of this conversation from informative statements to derogatory insults."

"You two really ought to settle down," Mission sighs, "I thought you and I bickered, Stephen. Yeesh, do you just look for people to argue with?"

"Not my fault," I say, smirking, finally smart enough to catch on to Mission's taunts and roll with them. As opposed to getting all up in arms, especially since we're more comfortable around one another… Rather, I'm more comfortable around her. Now that I've accepted this is my reality, or another one I'm in, I can live with my emotions to her. And after the whole origins deal, and the _Leviathan_ mess, we finally seem to have gotten things working between us. "People just love getting in fights with me. You should know."

Mission chuckles. "I'll hit you again, that way you don't do something else incredibly stupid. Just throwing that out there."

"Protecting me from my stupidity?" I gleefully ask, smirking all the way. "I knew you cared."

Mission shakes her head. "Don't count on it."

I open my mouth to say something back, catching the undertones behind this little conversation. However, before I get the chance to come up with something witty and then actually say the words, Canderous speaks up. "We've got a full day ahead of us, especially if half the things they say about this planet are true."

"_Like what_?" Zaalbar growls in question, as the whole group setting off through the relatively empty colony. It seems as if the Sith are a bunch of late risers, or perhaps there's not much point in being here if they're not accepting applicants to the Academy. There's a single Czerka employee wandering about in the background, and a shopkeeper. Other than that, it's pretty empty.

"The Valley of the Dark Lords, they call it," Jolee explains. "It's a site of importance for the Sith, almost religiously, but for good reason. They've got half-dozen tombs riddled throughout the valley, with even more artefacts inside tombs and caverns. At least, that's what they think. The ancient Sith have put enough traps to blow any future intruders from here to Coruscant."

"No kidding," I comment, "Apparently the idea of anyone taking their possessions after they died was such a terrible notion. They've got everything from levers to armed droids."

"Do these artefacts have any importance to them at all?" Canderous questions, looking doubtful.

"There's some powerful things in there," I answer, thinking back to everything that was in those tombs. "Or some of it could be useless. The important thing is that it will get Darius prestige with the headmaster."

"Suggestion: Slaughtering all the inhabitants of the Academy building would surely be impressive enough to warrant entry into the Sith," HK kindly offers his own opinion, not that anyone is really paying attention.

"So what Revan wants us to do is plunder tombs and recover worthless pieces of junk all damn day?" The Mandalorian scowls. I notice that he says Revan versus Darius… Canderous' people have always had a great deal of respect for Revan, but it's a lot harder to think of Darius as a Sith Lord and military genius. Even though I've known that truth since I've met him.

The door opens in front of us opens up, right at the end of the colony. The small road to the Academy is right ahead, where we were just a few hours ago. There's just one guard as before, maybe the same one? Those NPCs never did move, but that can't be the case here. The sun beats down on all of us, I can already feel it on my skin, re-burning the sunburns I got from Tatooine.

"Sounds safer than getting into an armed conflict just to impress someone," Jolee snorts, "Especially as many Sith there are here. I'd bet that at least three of them try to interfere with any … excavation efforts we set up."

"You don't need to place wagers on that," I say, memories bubbling up to the surface of my mind. "I know for sure there's going to be two times we're going to have to be wary of Sith interventions."

"Twice? They're such an original bunch," Mission comments. "I thought the Vulkars were thick, but I guess if you're on the losing side, you must be short on brain cells."

"Speaking of which…" Jolee mumbles, right as the Sith guard comes right into view. Yeah, really funny. Just wait until he hears you, and shoots us all!

"We're with Darius," Canderous growls to the Sith. It has to be the same guard, since he nods to us, surely recognising us. The rather large door opens up, a gaping mouth ready to swallow us whole. It's a maw, dark and devoid of life. Really, it is just as a dark as before. No Darius, Carth or T3, which begs the question of: where the hell did they go?

Zaalbar must have been thinking the same thing. "_Did Darius say he was going to wait for us here_?"

"Clarification: Negative, my meatbag comrade. I last observed him within the dormitory section of this complex," HK quickly responds, his robotic head swinging back and forth. Why does he do that? It's kind of strange; I know it's got something to do with his idle animation. I guess.

"Which way is that?" Mission frowns, looking around the rather large central chamber. Good question. I should have printed off all the damned maps and brought them with me or something. Why the hell doesn't my BlackBerry get any sort of connection in this reality? Damn shame.

HK just marches towards the right, so I guess that's where we're headed. The floor slops downwards, and I glance towards Mission, not exactly sure where Darius is at. I silently follow the droid, much to my annoyance, through a turn or two – right into a little room at the end of a corridor. Darius is there, pacing about the room, wearing black Sith robes instead of his golden armour. T3 is just offline in the corner, none of its lights are on. Carth is sitting on the bed right in the middle, which stands to reason that he must have been resting recently. Or he doesn't want to stand up all day.

"Finally," Darius sighs, stopping his circuit of the room. Right on cue, T3 fires back up, blue light in the centre of its frame turning on.

"Did you miss all of us then?" Jolee asks, apparently amused by Darius' annoyance. Don't toy with the former Sith Lord! That's a bad idea just waiting to happen. Assuming that side of him is going to come back, but you never know… It's got me in a confusing spot, I'll admit that.

"You would have been bored," Darius counters. "Interrogated a mercenary, recited the Sith Code, and set a young kid in the right direction."

"It wasn't me, right?" I tease, knowing full well that they're talking about, Carth's son. When Carth throws me a stern look, I serious my attitude up a bit. "How did it go with Dustil? I'm hoping things got cleared up…"

"They did," Carth replies. "He's a smart kid, and he doesn't like being manipulated, that's for sure. It's going to be a while before we talk again, but for now… That's enough."

"Good," I smile. I can see Mission's face, and she's clearly confused, but I move on. Not important, really. Private matters, sort of. I don't want to go broadcasting Carth's side quest and personal issues to everyone. "Glad to hear it, Carth."

"What happened? Did I miss something?" Mission asks, raising an eyebrow. "Or is this one of those things?"

"If Carth wants to tell you, he'll tell you," Darius answers, but quickly changes the topic. "But we've got important things to do, and I want to make sure I've got an adequate list. Correct me if I'm wrong, but there's renegade students out there, along with Lashowe's holocron scheme. And there's a three tombs, sounds like something in each of them."

"We've got to do this in one day? You didn't tell me you were going to kill us," Jolee raises an eyebrow and scowls.

"That's it, yes," I confirm Darius' list of tasks, mentally recalling each in turn. "The closest one is going to be the renegade students; they're going to be in a cave filled with all sorts of flying monsters."

"Shyracks," Darius corrects me, the man crouching down and fiddling with a footlocker at the base of the bed. "You all can head out there, from the back entrance of the Academy. They say it's a bit of a long walk, but I've got one last thing to fix up here."

What? Why bother calling us down here then? He's really getting erratic, and I thought that was really bad yesterday. Apparently, he's getting even stranger… There's no knowing what's next.

Shrugging, I turn around, only to have Darius' voice halt me in my tracks. "Before you and I head out, I need to talk to you Stephen. HK, no that doesn't mean you can stay, either," the man stares disapprovingly at his assassin droid, who is the second to leave the room. The last one out is seemingly Mission, leaving myself and the ex-Sith alone in this small dormitory room.

I take a seat on the bed, pushing my blaster away from my hip, so that it doesn't jab my waist or the bedding. I'm not exactly sure what he wants from me, or if he's just hitting me up for information about the coming mission. However, he hasn't had any trouble asking me when everyone else was present, so that can't be it.

Thankfully, Darius breaks the silence relatively quickly, taking a seat next to me. "Look, there was something I wanted to clear with you. Two things, actually. First off, this is for you."

He hands me something from the footlocker, practically shoving a blaster pistol into my hands. I quickly look it over, judging its weight in my hands, and it's much, much heavier than the one I'm used to. It's got a safety in the same spot, and another switch nearby. Seems to shoot a bit more powerful blaster rounds, given the size of the barrel, which also has tiny circular rings around it.

"I bought from a guy in Dreshdae," Darius explains, "Someone who offered me premium equipment for a decent price, all in the name of helping take down Darth Malak. I got some equipment, but since you don't have a worthwhile weapon, I picked this up as well."

"I know that bloke," I mutter, turning over the weapon a few times.

Darius gently takes the gun from me, grasping it and pointing it towards the wall. "It's bigger than one you're used to, so watch out for recoil. It's got a bit of selective fire, between normal single-shot and a fully automatic mode."

"A pistol with a full auto?" I ask, surprised. "Isn't that pretty uncommon?"

Darius nods, handing the weapon back. "You'd be surprised, especially with larger pistols. They never really caught on, but someone figured they could be an alternative to files. It'll burn through the power cell quite quickly, just so you know. And there's something else. I don't need this anymore, and it's adjustable…"

No way. Darius seems to have pulled out his gold armour that he was wearing just yesterday and back on Kashyyyk as well. I can't believe it. "Are you serious?"

"Look, nobody else needs it, so just take it."

I quickly reach for the armour straps in the back of my armour, stripping off the heavy silver plate that encases my chest and back. I practically throw the new gear over myself, noting how much lighter it is in comparison. I knew it! I painstakingly adjust the straps holding it all together, apparently I'm quite a bit skinner than Darius is, and a bit shorter too.

While I'm working, Darius keeps talking. "More importantly, there's been something I've been meaning to ask you, after I found out the truth about you."

"More questions?" I dejectedly say, a bit disappointed. I thought it would have been something else. I fiddle with the armour a bit more, but it's not centred. Better fix that one, unless I want to run around looking like an idiot.

"Not exactly," Darius replies. "Everyone else on this team has seen quite a bit of combat. Not saying we're all war vets, but you're in a unique situation. Tell you what, if you want to, I can leave you here after this, or drop you off at Manaan, somewhere nearby… What I'm saying is you don't have to come with us to the Star Forge. I'll need some information from you, but…"

"You're saying I can pass on the end part of this trip?" I don't know how I feel about that, to be honest. What would I even do? I know for a fact she's staying on this trip of insanity. "I'm not sure, I-."

Darius quickly cuts me off. "Think before you just answer. You, maybe more than anyone else, know what we're going to be facing after Korriban."

I've got a chance out of this madness, then. No real strings attached, hopefully I wouldn't have to give any of this gear back, though. As much as I worry, as much as I complain – what else would I honestly do? I don't have anything, and these people are my friends. More or less, I sure as hell won't count HK as one of my friends. And… and there's Mission, too. The alternative is…?

I finally finish adjusting the armour, biting my lip and chewing my tongue, thinking this all over. The only positive is not being killed, really. Not that it isn't one hell of a positive, but I don't think it's even close to being worth the cost. I have not come this far!

"I'm going to stay," I finally say, standing on my feet. "For good, you can count on it. Unless I get myself killed, which could be a very real possibility."

"Good, but this means you're going to have to listen my orders, even if you think you know better." Darius nods approvingly. "Then I've got to ask you one thing before we catch up with everyone else. Bastila. What's happened to her? And what the hell where you trying to do on the _Leviathan_?"

"Bastila," I whisper, realising that she's really gone. It's only been a few days, but the entire dynamic of this mission has changed. I speak up, still biting my lower lip. "She's with Malak, and he's… He's tortured her. And she'll turn to the Dark Side. Once we leave Korriban, it won't be long until we see her again."

"The Dark Side?" The former Sith Lord double-takes for just a moment, "Bastila, of all people?"

"Yeah," I confirm, and I see Darius' face fall for just a fraction of a second. "You and her were…?"

"You didn't answer my second question."

Oh, geez. Mission must have told him. She can't ever keep her mouth quiet, can she? "I tried to take her place. I figured that since I knew what was going to happen, I could die at the hands of Darth Malak, and Bastila wouldn't have to-."

"That wasn't your place to decide."

"I know that now," I quickly argue. "Mission stopped me, and beat the hell of me as well."

Darius shakes his head, sighing. "Between you and me, you really shouldn't piss her off like that. Let's get going, before someone else punches you. We've got a whole Valley to scour, and I need, at the very minimum, a little bit of knowledge to speed things up. Maybe that way, we can get out of here and save Bastila before it's too late."

I follow Darius out, placing the new blaster in my holster. Armed, armoured, and ready for this trip into the Valley of the Dark Lords.

* * *

BioWare lied to me. I'm not talking about any of the obvious things like rapid transit, stationary NPCs or that kind of thing. This is just such a blatant deception that it infuriates me. Or rather, it would if I wasn't panting to death, sweating every ounce of water physically possible. This isn't as bad as Tatooine, but that was a sea of sand even in the game!

They told me that this was a short little trip straight into the valley. It's quite a bit longer than that. It's ltierally miles and miles of mountain terrain. Hot, warm, the sun is out, and the fucking bugs.

We're in a bloody cave, and it's still hot and humid. At least we've only been in this cave a few minutes, so we haven't run into anything particularly nasty yet. There are damn big spikes on the floor and ceiling, and plenty of fog so that I can't see my feet at all… I don't like it.

I'm near the middle of our heavily armed group, blaster pistol in hand, pointed straight downwards.

"No wonder the renegade students went to hide in here," Carth comments from in front of me. "As many corpses as we've passed, you would have to be crazy to come in here."

Thankfully for all of us, Jolee and Darius are leading the party, green and purple lightsabers lighting the way in this stupid cave. The light from their weapons at least reflects off the cave walls, so we can see more than a foot in front of us, even through the fog.

"Remember that fleet we saw flying in?" Canderous comments, "These students have nowhere to go. They'll either die in this cave, or fly out the spaceport and be blown to pieces. If you ask me, they're going to try and take a ship that can get through their fleet. Otherwise they would have left already."

Don't they plan on heading up to the surface? I can't really recall what their plan is, I just remember that they're in here. Renegade students who disagree with the Sith? Should be here somewhere.

"Lucky for us, Lashowe isn't far from here, either," Darius shouts from up ahead. "At this rate, I'll be grabbing Master Uthar's favour before the Sith have any idea what's going on."

"_What about their final test_?" Zaalbar roars, voice echoing through the cave.

"I've already laid the groundwork on that one," Darius answers, which could mean one of two things. Either he's going to kill both the headmaster and Yuthura, or he just knows about their double cross scheme. Hopefully, it's not the evil Darius option. "Hopefully things go fairly well, that way we can avoid that whole Sith Academy disaster you keep freaking out about."

"Observation: The psychotic meatbag is prone to irrational panic attacks, master," HK takes yet another jab at me. "Warning: Master, I am detecting several organic creatures ahead. Based on their characteristics, it seems to be a small pack of Shyracks and two Tuk'ata hounds."

"Distance?" Carth asks the assassin droid, pulling a blaster pistol.

"Clarification: Fifteen meters."

Darius stops holding his two green lightsabers like torches, falling back to a more defensive position. "All right, let's do this. If there's any more down this tunnel, we're going to keep on pushing through. If we find them, though, don't fire on the renegade students. That means you as well, HK."

I can't tell if the animals in question are getting any closer, thanks to the damned fog. I move to my right side, pressing my back against the cave wall, narrowly stepping over a huge-ass spike. What is the hell is this? Regardless, I aim my weapon down the tunnel, barely able to see more than a few meters. The cave could make a quick turn, and I wouldn't even know it.

This new blaster pistol has a form of sight on the top, just a notch to look down and aim with. I grab the weapon quite tightly, right arm locked and one of my fingers hovering over the trigger. Waiting for the stupid things to show up is getting on my nerves… I can hear them, though, flapping wings and loud breathing noises. The fog in the distance is moving, being pushed from the centre out to the side. They're close, then.

I flip the switch on my weapon, arming it and disengaging the safety. Finally, one of them comes into view, screeching to the point where it's quite uncomfortable. Shyracks, they're massive! A wingspan of ten feet, I think, and it's racing towards us! Shit! I pull the trigger three quick times, but it moves way too quickly.

Not knowing what else to do, I duck as it whooshes overhead. Whoa, that stinks. I turn around and take another shot at it, but the beast turns to face us again. Thankfully, T3 is right behind me, and shoots a blaster from its dome straight into the Shyrack's head. Yes! You bad-ass!

I hear Canderous' repeating blaster rifle fire from the front of the group, along with the sound of a lightsaber cutting across the air. Of course, there's more! I turn back around, and hit my leg on the stupid spike, the same one I injured yesterday. That clearly isn't the worst of my problems, though. Darius and Jolee are right in the thick of things, green and purple blades fighting off about three Shyracks, but there are two big dog-like creatures there as well, running after the winged beasts. Tuk'atas.

Okay, I can do this. I raise my weapon back up, and take a single shot at the closest Shyrack. The blaster bolt flies correctly, and burns straight through one of the creature's thin wings. It plummets to the ground, screaming all the way. Remembering what people always said about hunting on Earth, I take a few shots at the Shyrack, ending its life with nothing more than a squeeze of a trigger.

"Oh shit!" I yell. One of the Tuk'ata is practically right on top of me! I shoot at the beast at point blank range, leaving a huge black burn mark on its hide. Thinking I've got at least a few moments, I take a step back, breathing. Much to my surprise though, the edges of the wound seemingly heal before my eyes. "You've got to be kidding."

Regenerative health is real? Why don't we just put metal on their skeletons then?

I get ready to fire again, only to have the hound burst into flames in front of me. Holy shit! I stumble backwards even further, realising that HK's flamethrower might not be too picky about targets. I nod my thanks to the droid, raising my blaster to fire upon the next flying Shyrack, nailing the creature a few times right at the same time as Canderous does – pretty much the instant it comes from out from the fog.

Darius and Jolee both step into that same fog, quickly followed by Canderous and Zaalbar. Alright, here we go. I take it slow, not running or moving too quickly. The cave makes two sharp turns, even more animal corpses across the floor, one of which makes a sickening crunch under my foot. I slowly look down, and realise that it's not a dead Shyrack or Tuk'ata, it's a humanoid skeleton. Oh god… I've just stepped on a dead man's ribs.

"Hold it right there!" I woman's voice calls out, but I can't see who it is. Not Mission, but definitely someone else. I take a few steps forward, and it quickly becomes very apparent who is speaking with us, a female Sith student, wearing a uniform and holding a lightsaber. There's a couple more behind her, standing in a larger part of this cave with a fire going for warmth and light. It probably gets rid of those blasted animals as well.

Darius quickly holsters his weapons, raising his arms up in a sign of good faith. "Hey, hey, don't worry! I know who you all are, and I'm not here to kill you. We're here to help!"

I keep my tight grasp on my blaster, hard enough that it feels as if I'm capable of crushing the damn thing in half. I can see that most of the Sith are doing the same, hands on their own weapons. After a tense moment, their leader relaxes, and we all do the same. I flip the safety back on, but don't holster the gun. Can't be too careful, even if I'm not going to be much good against a Sith.

Everyone else does the same, it looks like. HK lowers his blaster rifle, as does Canderous. Zaalbar does the same with his bowcaster, while Jolee's lightsaber winks out of existence. Carth slowly lowers his two pistols, the last to do so. Aside from T3, I guess. Alright, so I've got the right idea. Wait, where's Mission? She was here just a second or two ago…

"You're from the Academy, aren't you? We aren't going back, so either turn around, or we're going to have to kill you," the former Sith student warns, her hand encased around a lightsaber.

"I'm not here to kill you-." Darius replies, but he gets cut off again.

"Well, then, what are you doing here?" The woman noticeably relaxes, but still has her hand around the weapon.

Darius glances at HK for a split-second. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. Yes, I'm here because of the Sith Academy, but I'm not one of them. I'm a Jedi, working undercover here."

Way to spill the beans, mate. The Sith doesn't seem entirely convinced by that confession. "A Jedi? On Korriban?"

"You probably don't believe it," Darius shrugs. "But I'm not stupid. This cave is a network on tunnels, not a dead-end. Shyracks never breed in an environment like that, and if you've set up camp here… It means that you can't get back out through the exit, and not because of the environment out there. You've got to gear back there to survive three weeks on the way to hijack a ship. Therefore, something is keeping you here. Not teams from the Academy, more likely a large or powerful creature near the sole exit."

Damn.

The renegade Sith raises an eyebrow. "Alright. You want to help? There is a rather large beast out there, and it's got us pinned here. You kill it, we're going out into the desert, and we're planning on circling around and stealing one of the ships from Czerka in Dreshdae."

"_We could tell the Sith that we killed them, for prestige._" Zaalbar points out, and Darius nods in approval.

"What is it, then? Thirty plus Shyracks?" Darius asks, tossing one his lightsabers a foot into the air, then catching it his open palm.

The former student slowly shakes her head. "We think it's a Terentatek."

The smirk drops itself from Darius' features, wiped away by the sudden news. I know exactly why, too. I'd rather not think back to Kashyyyk, where I nearly got eaten by one of those massive things. And that was with me, Zaalbar, Jolee, Darius and Bastila all there. We've got more people now, but there's the danger of Shyracks and the narrow bridge the Terentatek was on in the game… Okay, I might have to panic now. I could deal with some other monsters and Sith jerk weeds, but I was hoping we wouldn't have to deal with that Terentatek. The last one nearly ate me!

"We'll be back when it's dead," Darius says, his voice considerably less enthusiastically than before. He briefly gestures to seemingly thin air behind one of the Sith students further back in this particular cave. The air shimmers for a second, followed by a whistling noise. Ah, so that would be where Mission was. The Sith in front of her jumps up in surprise, but the Twi'lek just smirks at him. I didn't even know she was there, I can only imagine that bloke's reaction.

Now that we're all accounted for, Darius just points towards the end of this particular cavern, and we all set off in that direction, walking past the only source of warmth in this blasted place, a fire the renegade students have set up. The tunnel here is a lot like the previous one, except I don't see any of the Shyracks here. A few more corpses line the walls, but I stay clear of them. Avoiding any more of that.

I follow Darius and the others into a much larger room, there's ground as far as I can see on my left, but it also comes to a sudden drop-off just a few feet in front of me. About ten meters further, though, there's plenty of floor. And a brightly lit tunnel – must be the exit that the former Sith are planning on using.

"You're not afraid of heights, are you Darius?" Jolee snorts, pointing to the narrow bridge spanning the chasm.

"I would have died on Taris," the Jedi grimly replies, activating his lightsaber with a _snap-hiss_. The green light helps light up the area a little bit, but it really pushes the point home on this gaping maw right in front of me. Darius holds the blade over the side, but I can't even see where the bottom of this sucker is at. I take a quick step back, since I'm not a big fan of heights.

"No wonder they're hesitant about fighting that Terentatek," Canderous says, "No matter how intelligent this beast is, any animal is going to know how defendable this position is. It could have a feast, eating them one a time."

"It's the kind of thing I saw on Kashyyyk," Jolee observes. "Any predator knows how to use its environment to its advantage."

I frown, knuckles whitening as I grip my blaster pistol. Where is this monster? I know it's here, come on…

"They're also found of stalking their prey," the old man continues, not helping my nervous breakdown. "Well, I'm not saying that's the case here, but you never know."

"We're not being stalked," Darius says from in front of everyone else. How exactly does he know, then? Don't go all Jedi on me, mate, I need some answers. Not some mystical nonsense.

Carth pulls his two pistols out of his holsters, regardless of what Darius just said. "How are you sure of that?"

In response, the light from Darius' lightsaber shifts from being pointed at the maw before us. Now, it's pointed straight ahead, lighting the area of us. The bridge isn't actually empty, as I originally thought. With the lightsaber aimed straight at the centre of the bridge, the massive from of a Terentatek shuffles ever so slightly, almost cloaked in the near-blackness of this blasted cave.

The monster's teeth slightly shine under the light, as well as the Terentatek's solid black eyes. It must have noticed that we're aware of its presence, since it roars and swings an arm at Darius. The Jedi rolls backwards, activating his second green blade an instant later. Well, I guess we've found this one pretty quickly. The Terentatek attacks again, this time hitting Darius and knocking him several feet back towards the way we came.

Carth retaliates first, firing both his blasters in rapid succession. Canderous and Mission join in not long after. I remember that blasters don't do very much against this stupid thing, but I don't exactly have much of a choice. I fire a few times at the Terentatek; the blaster rounds either glancing off the beast's hide or being seemingly absorbed rather than doing any damage.

"Optimal accuracy ratio achieved!" HK-47 announces, followed by a single shot from the droid's sniper rifle. I can't tell exactly what happened, but the droid must have done some damage, judging by the sudden roars and howls. The light from Jolee's weapon shines some light onto what happened there, literally. Black blood pours from one of the Terentatek's eyes, and it paws at the wound, practically ignoring us.

"Shit!" I cry out, alarmed by the rather violent motions the beast is going through. It's bad enough that I'm worried the whole bridge is going to collapse.

Darius gets back on his feet, only armed with one of his two weapons. "HK, take that thing out!"

Not waiting for the droid to carry out his orders, I flip one of the switches on my gun and unleash quite a surprising amount of firepower in a few seconds. That doesn't really seem to do much, though. It's still shrieking and it's starting to rush forwards. Right at us! Oh, shit. HK just made things worse, what a surprise. Why haven't I gotten back at that snarky fuck yet?

True enough, though, the assassin droid takes his second shot at the wounded Terentatek. I can't see the blaster shot move from the barrel of the gun to the target, just a flash of red. A moment later, the animal falls forward, mouth open, right into the ground. The creature's corpse slides off the edge, plummeting into the pit below.

T3 beeps and whistles. I really need to learn to speak with that droid, or figure out how to tweak my translator unit. Judging by that little encounter, I'm going to go with a sign of relief.

I'm pretty relived too. HK is annoying as all hell, but at least he can shoot. He's making me look bad. Or rather, worse than I already look at all this.

* * *

It only took a few moments to tell the Sith we dealt with all their problems in a normal RPG quest manner. After that, I think we were all pleased to be leaving that cave. Darius lost one of his lightsabers in that fight with the Terentatek, so that put him in a fine mood for a few minutes. I'm surprised, to be honest, apparently we were in that Skyrack cave for several hours. It's past midday, the sun beating down over my head. I'm going to sunburn again for sure.

Though, part of all that time vanishing was our run-in with Lashowe. Pretty much as I suspected, once that brat had her hands on the holocron things played out much like they did in the game. It's a relief, being able to tell what's going on for a change. Things have changed a lot from the game recently, so it's nice to be able to have that. Dealing with the mother Tuk'ata didn't even take much work, Darius and Lashowe practically cut the thing to pieces. Not long after, Darius killed her for the holocron. I wasn't privy to the whole ordeal, but things looked pretty heated there before violence broke out again.

It didn't help my worries that Darius had nothing to say afterwards, not for several minutes anyway. I'm honestly worried about the whole light side versus dark side issue. It wasn't that long ago when I heard about what happened to Juhani on Dantooine, and now? I just don't know, and this isn't helping. The only words we all heard after Lashowe's death were to split up; Carth, Mission and myself were tasked with joining Darius, heading for one of the tombs. Everyone else was ordered to take out the rogue assassin droid in the other tomb.

"So this is the last thing we're being forced to fetch?" Carth asks, staring straight into the open doorway.

"It can't be that bad, Carth," Mission jokes. "You know that nobody who has ventured in here has ever come out, and that all the Sith say there's just about a dozen traps and defences still intact. Somehow lasting over millions of years!"

Maybe it'll be like _Uncharted_, and we'll all have to climb up a thousand well placed ledges, acting snarky all the way.

"The Sith really want that old sword," Carth notes. "And none of them have ever gotten it? Seems like something is at work in here, at the very least."

"I didn't beg you as the suspicious type," I wink, running a hand along the stone entrance to the tomb. It feels really dry, but there's no separation lines anywhere that I can feel. Which means it's all one piece of stone. I can't see more than a few meters in front of us, which is to be expected given our track record with these kinds of places.

Carth doesn't cross the threshold either. "I'm still not believing a lot of the stories they tell about this, but there has to be some logical reason why nobody has found that sword."

"Maybe it doesn't actually exist," Mission suggests, stepping forward. I do the same, quickly being engulfed by the dark. Thankfully, there's some built-in lighting system further down, judging by all the light. It's not exactly bright by any means of the word, but I can still see at least.

"If it didn't, people probably would have come back alive," Darius says. "But if the four of us can cut through sewers and Rakghouls, we can grab a rusty old sword."

"Rakghouls? I'd rather not reminiscence about those," Carth admits, "But if we are, you shouldn't forget about that Rancor, either."

"I don't want to be reminded of that," I retort. "That was the most fucked up day of my life."

"Wasn't a vacation for any of us," Darius comments, and I feel bad for placing all the emphasis on myself. Especially given the _Endar Spire_ and the fact that he and Carth rode an escape pod into a city building.

Mission steps forward slowly, pushing some sort of spider web out of the way. In front of us, a few stones fall from the ceiling, the sound of stones striking the floor echoing throughout the entire tomb. I stop for a moment, studying my breathing. We all have no choice but to make a left turn in this artificial tomb, and we nearly run straight into a black door, much like the ones used in the Sith Academy. Interchangeable doors indeed.

Unlike the ones in the school, though, these aren't opening right away. I wave a hand in an attempt to open it by motion controls, which has worked almost every else I've been. Huh. I haven't even noticed that I've been doing that out of habit. I've pretty much forgotten about door handles, or traditional locks. How long is it until I forget everything about my old home? This is my new one, I've accepted that. But I can't just forget about everything… Should I? I guess it's not like I'll ever return, but it's still part of my past.

A past I can only share with a very select group of people.

"Carth," Darius' voice yanks me out of my thoughts. "You pull on that lever there."

I cringe at the noise the lever makes, but the door opens nonetheless. Carth lets go of the device, and my immediate worry is that the portal is going to slam shut again, and probably take quite a bit of this tomb with it. Thankfully, the door stays open, revealing even more of the tomb. There's another long, narrow bridge with another running parallel, though that one further away seems to have quite a few inactive droids resting on it.

"And that's why nobody ever came back, Carth," Darius raises an eyebrow, the Jedi seemingly taking in his surroundings much more quickly than I am capable of. "There's six of them, and I'm honestly not sure how they're here or how long they've been here."

"I don't recognise the models," Mission observes. "You think they have some sort of automated repair systems? That would keep them running for quite some time."

"Built by the ancient Sith, no doubt," the Jedi sighs, eyes transfixed on the puzzle in front of us. "There's no telling what they've done here. Judging by how things are set-up, they're likely to gun anyone heading across."

I bite my lip, not sure what we're supposed to do here. "I'm guessing we can't just shoot them right now either."

"They're going to attack us either way, whether we walk across or try taking them out right now. Keep your head bout you, and we'll take them all at once. All six of them, that is. You're going to need one of these, each of you."

Darius shoves a hand grenade right into my palm, and proceeds to give one to Mission as well. Apparently Carth already has one, but I'm doubtful we can take all of them at once. The Jedi signals for us to be ready, and he lobs the first grenade right at the farthest droid, which explodes in a rather large blue explosion. The droid subjected to the blast is destroyed nearly instantly, but the other five unfold into metal monstrosities. Naturally, just like everything else, they seem to be armed to the teeth, at least as far as I can tell. At least four blasters on each one.

Mission and Carth throw their own grenades, and I do the same, pressing a button on the device before chucking it several feet towards the nearest droid. A rather colourful display of fireworks blows across the first few droids, in vibrant shades of red, white and cyan. I should've checked what kind of grenade I was just using. Though, I kind of forget what colour means what type of explosion. Red might be plasma, but that's not really important.

The smoke hasn't quite cleared yet, but red blaster fire practically pours from the rising gasses. Oh shit! I throw myself behind the rubble on my left side, my chest taking the brunt of that stunt. My leg hurts even worse than before, but I'm alive, I guess. I crouch behind these rocks, pushing aside an old armoured corpse for room. Gross, gross, gross. Die somewhere more convenient, if you don't mind.

I peer over my cover, and duck again when a blaster shot whizzes over my head. From what I just briefly saw, it seems like there's three of them left. But of course, it looks like ach one of those bloody droids are surrounded by a red energy sphere. Shields, of course. I might be rocking a new little pistol, but I'm not feeling too great about my odds here. Especially since nobody has even gotten past these droids. Granted, they might have been using lightsabers, but surely some of them were in this situation.

Well, now that I say that, there was a corpse in this very same spot.

I look up again, and see that the closest of the three has no shields. I raise my own weapon and fire on the sodding thing. Carth and Mission must share this idea, and the machine collapses in a shower of sparks. Okay, then… Two left. Both of which have their shields. How do we get those to go down?

Darius scrambles over the nearby rubble, quickly followed by Carth. "Look, they're powerful, but much older than anything recent. They've got to lower their shields for just a moment before they start firing. So-." Darius pauses for just a moment, as a rock flies past our heads. "When you said you were in this for the duration, did you really mean it?"

"I might be regretting it now," I say, raising my voice over the weapons fire. "But yes."

"You and Carth need to move up to the right, Mission and I are going to take out the other two droids as soon as they readjust their aim."

I take a deep breath, looking right at Carth. "You ready mate?"

An instant later, I rush into motion, ignoring the growing pain in my ankle. An instant later, the agony ramps up in intensity, much worse than ever before. I push past that, hearing blaster fire just behind me. There's not a whole lot of places to run, I'm essentially right in front of the droids. Another three meters and I'm at the far edge of the tomb, and a fallen stone support beam. Cover, awesome.

I grasp the beam, forcing my legs over and collapsing in a heap. Breathe, breathe, come on… Damn, that is one unpleasant feeling. Okay, I better take a look and see if those droids are gone… Oh. Six smouldering wrecks. That's what I'm talking about!

"Think there's anything else ready to fry us?" Mission asks, holstering her weapon and stepping into my field of vision. "Or are all these tombs haunted by murderous droids?"

I audibly groan as I force myself back on my feet. "If that's the case, we ought to leave HK in one of them for future Sith to find."

"If you're not careful, you're going to be left here while I grab the sword," Darius says, walking at the head of our group across the narrow bridge. Honestly, who builds platforms like this? Not even the one in Moria looked this unstable; I don't think this one could support a Balrog.

While I couldn't be any more happy to be on relatively solid ground, Darius doesn't seem to mind either way, waving a hand and opening the next and final door either through some motion control system or simply with the Force. I'm not sure how to tell if he's been using that or not, it's only really obvious when someone uses Force Lightning or something. He better not go all Emperor Palpatine on my ass.

"Sure doesn't look like much," Carth comments, and he's not kidding. There's just this one dusty, circular chamber with a coffin in the middle. And it isn't even sealed, it's ripped open! Along with a rather withered corpse, there are also three swords inside, and Darius grabs all three of them, looking them over. Shit, which one was it? I freaking forget. Damn, I really wish I grabbed an online guide or anything when I had the chance.

Not more than a few seconds, a shiver runs down my spine, and it's almost like there's a bit of a nasty draft in here. Mission looks just as confused as I am, while Carth and Darius don't seem as addled by this.

"Too long… Too long in the cold and dark. I'm disturbing again? Three humans, and another?" A dry, raspy voice calls out from the entryway. The intonation and pacing of his voice pretty much matches the faux wind in here, which makes sense for this bloke. I turn around, and double take at the sight of a slightly transparent Sith Lord, who is more focused on talking to Darius. "A Jedi…? Why have you come to this dark place? Why disturb my rest? The Force is strong with you, human. Yet your face, your soul… It has been a long time since we last met."

"You met me before, you're some kind of spirit or ghost." Darius frowns. "As Revan. And who exactly are you?"

"I had a name, once. Ajunta Pall. Yes, that was my name. I was a servant of the dark side… the Sith Lords, we called ourselves. But that was an old life, and we hid from those we had betrayed. We fell. The Jedi Masters, the ones that taught us how to use the Force… We turned against them."

Darius puts the three blades back in the sarcophagus. "What happened then? You must have fought back against them. The same thing is happening right now, and the Sith aren't exactly the most original of thinkers. For that matter, the Jedi aren't either."

The deceased man keeps going; apparently he's immune to sarcasm and anything along those lines. Good thing he's not talking to me. "We destroyed each other. We desired the secrets of each other, we each had knowledge and power that the others possessed. We battled until our fortresses rained down upon our heads. Those loyal to us buried in these tombs, the weapons and traps just another defence from the other Sith. Tell me, do the Sith still survive out there?"

"That's the reason I'm here," Darius tells the spirit. "And they're just as likely to kill one another as the ancient Sith that you were familiar with."

"Has it been so long that you would call it ancient? So much time has passed, and yet we have learned nothing. You must be here for my sword, the weapon I filled with all my pride. It remains as I do, even though I regret. I am dead, as is my faith. But you…? You seek my power, just like all the others."

"I don't think those droids were the only defence here," Mission whispers, an act unnoticed by the thousand-year old Ajunta Pall. "I think I've got a bad feeling about this."

"I wish my sword to be taken… Taken from this place. I command of you, I do not wish it to rot away as I have, both in body and in spirit. If you and your companions are wise, you will not keep it."

"You said it's powerful," the Jedi takes a look back at the metal blades. "There's a war to be fought."

"If you are wise, you will not keep it," the blue-tinted ghost repeats. "In the end, it is what destroyed me and my followers... There are three blades in your grasp, but only one is my sword, but it has been so long that I can barely remember which was the one that the others desired."

Darius picks up one the blades, judging the weight of the weapon in his hand. "What if I guess wrongly?"

Ajunta Pall steps towards Darius, moving alarmingly close to me. I don't want a ghost to get me! "Then you must… die. That is how it must be. Place your choice on the statue, If it the true sword, it is yours. Go, find the sword and place it on the statue."

We all wait for about thirty seconds in eerie silence, I think there's a mutual feeling that this dead guy should say something a bit more. He's awfully vague, and I'm sort of glad about that. If he started going on and on about how he died and what exactly it's like to be in that sort of state… And I didn't kill him, so I won't be haunted.

No, no, it's not a real ghost. It's a Force … thing.

Still, it doesn't sound like he's got anything more to say…

Darius paces back and forth for a second, before walking right up to the small statue behind the sarcophagus. Carth quickly looks at the spirit before joining Darius and Mission. I follow right away, staying very, very clear of the blue Sith man. Darius lays all three swords on the ground rather carefully, presenting to us the problem.

A notched steel sword, a high-tech vibro sword and a silver-lined sword.

"You wouldn't happen to know the answer to this one, would you?" The former Sith Lord asks, jabbing at the vibro sword with his boot.

I try my hardest… Shit. A puzzle answer that could avoid us all being killed by a dead bloke, and I don't know the goddamned answer! "I'm not sure… It's not the vibro-sword, I think."

"Maybe you should've taken notes," Carth sarcastically comments. "I thought you said you knew what was going to happen?"

"You remember a story you read six years ago? Down to the small details?" Mission backs me up, but not averting her gaze from the three weapons.

"Shut up, I'm thinking," Darius barks, stroking his chin.

Countless seconds pass, until the Jedi picks up the notched steel sword, holding it with one hand right in front of the statue. So, if he puts the wrong one in that slot right there, we're all fried. And will probably die horrific deaths. My heart is pounding, my neck all twitchy… Time slows down to a crawl as the sword falls into place, scraping noise filling the circular chamber.

And… nothing!

I'm alive! Mission, Darius, Carth, ghost Ajunta… We're all still here. Well, I don't actually acre about the dead guy to be honest.

"Yes… that is the one. That is the blade that destroyed me," Ajunta deadpans. "Take it, take the other blades even. Go, leave this place. My darkness awaits me."

"There's not really any need to remain here, is there…?"

Right as those words leave Darius' mouth, the blue form of Ajunta slowly vanishing into thin air. The wind fades as well, along with a good chunk of dark brown fog. All in all, this place doesn't look like anything more than an ancient stone room. Not now that Darius has claimed the three swords, and Ajunta Pall is gone. We did it!

Forget the fact that I'm in an obscene amount of pain, but we still did it!

"Last thing we need for this Sith Headmaster?" Mission says, holding onto one of the three swords. "He must be pretty demanding if he wants all these things just to get accepted."

I keep my eyes straight ahead as we traverse the bridge again. Heights are not that big of a deal… Okay… It's just back out through the entrance area, and we're in the Valley, off to hike back to the Academy. This whole errand-running trip can finally end.

"So… The Spineless worm actually made it through the tomb? I'm impressed…"

Fuck.

One of the Sith recruits stands straight in our path, lightsaber active, glowing an eerie colour of blood across the walls. I can't recall his name, but he's an asshole regardless. Hopefully this doesn't escalate into a fight.

Darius switches his own lightsaber on. "Shaardan? What do you want? I'm not here to amuse you."

"Isn't it obvious?" The Sith sneers, grinning from ear to ear. "I've been hoping that someone would do all the work in retrieving the sword for a while. It's been a wait, but it seems to have finally pulled off. So be a good sport and hand it over, or I'll kill the children. And the old soldier for good measure."

"Thanks for the offer, I'll take you up on it. Give me just to minute to get it out, would you?" The Jedi tosses the silver-lined sword to the ground, as well as the actual sword. Mission chucks the other fake as well, forming a pile much like the one buried with Ajunta.

Darius reaches for one of the swords, but Shaardan interrupts him. "No, I don't think so." Much to my surprise, her turns and looks me straight in the eye. "You know which one it is, I take it? Give it to me, I don't trust your friend. He is trying to be a Sith, after all."

I glance at Revan, who gently nods. Okay, I know what he's getting at. I bend over, not looking away from the crimson lightsaber. I grab the silver-lined sword, slowly standing up once again. Okay, handing it over… The man pretty much snatches it from my hands. Geez man, you're going to poke an eye out.

"Smart move," Shaardan says, carefully placing the silver-lined sword in a small bag. "You're obviously even more pathetic that I could have even imagined. Thanks for the sword, idiots."

What a dumb-ass. Trick a Sith? Done. Ready to grab the last Star Map? You bet.

Now I just need to figure out how I can get back at the damned droid.

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**Review, please!**


	26. Chapter 26: Lesson Time

Chapter 26: Lesson Time

"Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead."

~Benjamin Franklin

**Author's Note: Took a little bit longer than I thought it would take, but here's Chapter 26. Things got a bit busy, so sorry about that. Damn, film school, now that's a heap of work. So if I didn't reply to a review or anything, I'm sorry, that's why. I'll try to be better, I'm also going to try and have bi-weekly updates.**

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Sweat drips from my forehead onto the metal deck, but I can't hear it hit the deck over my panting. After four days, this is still every bit as exhausting as it was when we started this absolutely thick schedule. My body feels disturbingly warm, and I feel like I'm pouring sweat all over the place, and my arms are so sore I think they could honestly just fall off.

Actually, my whole body is sore. Legs, arms, abdomen, arms… Arms!

I push myself back up, shaking as I do so. I'm a pretty light guy, but this was tough after the first bloody push-up. They insisted I slap my armour on for extra weight, but now I'm not sure I can hold this position for very long. Still, I've done another, so that brings my grand score for the moment up to …. Uh, fifty eight…

I open my mouth to complain to my supervisor, but I just can't find the air in my lungs to bitch about this. Not that it would matter, I've been moaning about it for four straight days. They don't care, and that …asshole sure finds my suffering amusing.

Okay, no more. Please, no more. I let myself crash down on the deck, sucking in air in long, deep breaths.

When I feel like I'm finally able to speak again, I roll over so that my face isn't buried into a metal plate. The lights overhead burn my salty eyes, and the sight of HK's glowing photoreceptors hang over my vision just a moment later.

"Observation: It seems that you are physically incapable, psychotic meatbag. You were able to perform six more of this physical exercise twelve hours earlier."

"That was when you woke me up!" I spit, slowing my breathing back down to its normal rate, but my heart is still pounding faster than ever before. "And then you lot made me do sit-ups, some sort of awful thing on a bar, then I had to run! Around that blasted hangar deck until I nearly threw up!"

"Reminder: I already proposed that you should replace many of your fleshy parts with more robust mechanical ones. Addendum: I would also suggest that if you removed several limbs or organs, then we would move much more efficiently."

"I can't do that!"

"Of course. Stupid, frail, non-compartmentalised meatbags."

Mission comes into view near HK. "Don't rail on him too hard. He's able to do more than fifteen now."

"I don't see why this is going to help me in a fight," I wave a hand over my head, shooing the two people practically hovering over me. Once they're gone, I get myself into a sitting position. "Especially since you three have been forcing me to do this and nothing else for almost four days."

The third of my tortures speaks up. "I've told you already. You can't just sit in one place and soak blaster fire. Your body is a weapon, and there are times as a warrior that you'll have to depend on it. Judging by your performance so far, you weren't doing very well before now."

"That's why they invented guns!" I argue, still out of breath.

Canderous doesn't really buy it. "And how many times have you had to run, punch someone or move?"

"Besides," Mission joins back in again, smirking. "If I have my way, you'll be doing a bit more as well. Not to mention, you could use a bit of a work-out."

It's not my fault I had a somewhat sedentary life style. Not really any sports or anything along those lines to spice up my life. "What do you mean, if you have your way?"

Mission hands me a canteen of water, which I quickly suck down. However, she exchanges a quick glance with Canderous, and then HK. Err… What's going on here, then? "We haven't decided yet, but there was a discussion about some methods to enhance your combat abilities…"

"Statement: The Twi'lek and the Mandalorian had slightly differing opinions, but my own was dismissed. Suicide is frequently an option with meatbags, but apparently it is an unacceptable choice. However, I still suggest that you enact it nonetheless."

"What do you mean by enhance?" I ignore HK, looking up at Canderous and Mission. "Is there anything more than shooting someone with my pistol? It's not like I've got any talent points to level up with."

"Don't be an idiot," Canderous deadpans. "The Jedi have their own weapons and abilities, as do I as one of the _Mando'a_. Given your lack of training, you're going to have to pick up on some things to gain an edge over your opponents. One of my people said 'know yourself, and you will win all battles.' That includes your strengths."

Oh great. "I don't have any of those. Taris to now I've only struggled in this field, and you know what? It's not something I'm comfortable with, killing."

"I know you're not, Stephen," Mission steps in. "It has to be done, when it comes down between us and them. I had to do the same thing five years ago, and I don't just shoot people. I'm the best computer slicer here, and I've been known to use a stealth generator from time to time."

"I remember," I nod. Took me by surprise in Korriban, I nearly forgot about anyone using those, but apparently they do exist in this reality. "I noticed back there in the Shyrack cave."

Mission laughs. "That's the first time you saw me pull that stunt?"

"Statement: My initial observation of your combat abilities on Tatooine revealed a stealth field generator being used more than once against the natives of that planet."

Damnit, HK. Would you finally stop trying to one-up me? Not that I'm going to say that, or I'll just get another sarcastic, rude response that's also some sort of underlying threat. Or a comment about how much I suck, which I really don't need.

"So what's the argument about?" I ask, curious about what these three have been thinking about for me. Well, Canderous and Mission… Since HK points out I could kill myself, cheeky bastard.

Mission offers a hand to me, pulling me up to my weak feet. "We don't have a lot of time to go over too complicated, which rules out any sort of electrical work on droids or hacking computers. Darius is going to take the final test at sunset, and if you're right about the Academy, we might be in a bad situation as soon as he returns."

"Which is why there's no reason to teach you anything advanced," Canderous argues. "Since Revan told us to get you up to speed, that means teaching you to use a rifle and more armaments."

Damned Darius. I could have had four somewhat relaxing days, but instead he tells these three to spend all their time making me miserable. I get the gesture, mate, especially since the Star Forge is creeping ever so closer, but I really could have used some more sleep. The positive at all was that I could spend a bit of time with Mission, although it was either her ensuring my own suffering, or just a few minutes before I practically collapsed from exhaustion. Things seem to be going kind of well in that regard, though.

"Look," Mission continues, "I know how to use a stealth field generator; I can teach you the basics in just a few hours. You won't be close to proficient, but it'll give you more of an edge than using a massive repeating blaster rifle. It's using stealth and guile as opposed to brute force."

"You want the simpler option, it's a more effective and versatile form of combat."

Wait… Am I picking my class? After all these planets and places we've gone, I finally get some combat training and ways to try them out. And something more specific than: 'Oh my god, someone is here, I better shoot them with my little pistol and hope for the best.' I am getting the chance to pick my class!

No, no, Stephen… This isn't a video game, despite the parallels. You're just picking an option, and thankfully there's no light or dark side choice involved with it.

I bite my lip, uncertain of what exactly I want to do here. I could finally upgrade my equipment, learn to use a rifle and pour some ammunition into my enemies. Keep it simple, it's worked so far. On the other hand, I can try and pick up a little bit of stealth tactics. Mission's taught me to shoot a pistol, so I'm confident she can at least teach me something. I'm definitely not going to be a master at anything, but this could give me more options either way.

"And how easy is the whole stealth field… thing?" I ask, not sure about how I feel about sneaking about. Sounds kind of… rude.

Mission unhooks her own belt, presenting it in front of me. "You'll need the right equipment, which helps to a certain degree. If we can get Darius to pick you a good one from Dreshdae, it'll be better than a basic belt. Use this, and you're invisible. To what extent depends on how you use it, how you move."

"Sorry Canderous," I say, finally making up my mind. "I'm with Mission on this one, I think it's the best option."

The Mandalorian snorts, taking a seat on a cargo container in the room we're in. HK continues to stand where he's at, not that it matters for him. Wait, what are these two doing, then? Surely they're not going to make me run anymore, my legs have turned into a jelly substance that makes standing difficult. Hey, at least my right leg doesn't seem to hurt as badly anymore. Apparently I tore something in the damn thing while running in the tomb, which doesn't help at all.

Mission tosses me the belt. "Great! At least you listened to me this time, and we're going to have to hope that you're better at this than you are at cards."

"That's because you cheat," I tease, removing my own equipment belt and placing Mission's on, getting it fastened. Heavier than a normal one, but otherwise it seems about the same. The Twi'lek hands a small armband over as well… No, a wristband. Must be the way to activate it, then?

"Go ahead, give it a shot."

I tap the green button, the largest one in the centre. As soon as I do so, the button changes to a red shade. Another second later, though, the wristband is gone… Along with my whole ruddy arm! Holy snap, that is an insane trick! I can just barely see the outline of my arms and legs, and they're shimmering about. Sort of like a mirage in the distance, but it's so strange. I know my forearm should be right in my line of sight, but it isn't! I can see the deck instead, shimmering aside.

A sudden wave of illness washes over me, probably from the new sensations. My skin tingles, and a slight humming fills my ears. The stealth belt feels almost like it's vibrating ever so slightly, but after a few more seconds... Okay, I'm all right.

Mission looks right at me, which is a bit unnerving. Yeah, I'm invisible, but I guess I haven't really moved yet.

I take a breath as Mission continues. "You're going to have to get used to this feeling. You can't move the same way you would normally. You're either going to kick yourself out of your cloak, or you're going to light up like a Christmas tree. Take a few steps forward, would you?"

I nod, not that it matters. Oh, oops. I take one very careful step forward, then another one. Alright, this isn't too bad then. It can't be that bad, can it? Okay, one more, pick up the pace just a little bit…

A rather loud noise fills my ears, a combination of static and a loud hum lowering in pitch for a few seconds. I look down, and I'm back to normal. No cloak, it's gone. Damnit, this isn't going to be easy.

Not to mention, Canderous is laughing his ass off in the corner over there. Laugh it up, then. HK is staring right at me, too. Smug bloke, if I could get any of this stealth stuff down, maybe I could use that against him? Assuming he doesn't have anti-stealth eyesight, I wouldn't put it past him. I'll have to find out… discretely.

"Again. You don't get this down, you're going to get shot the instant you come out of cloak."

I shoot a dirty look at Mission, but I might as well reluctantly hit the damn button. I do so, and the nausea briefly returns, along with all the strange sensations that accompany with the use of the stealth field. I look straight down, my whole body is once again… gone. So strange…

Okay, one foot in front of the other, very carefully… I'm practically taking baby steps here, moving much more slowly than I normally do.

"Observation: At this rate, you may completely degrade into complete mental psychosis before reaching any form of objective, meatbag."

I grit my teeth, trying to step up my pace just a little bit more. Okay, everything is all good… I'm doing just fine… I'm only a few feet from the exit of the cargo hold, taking it slowly… I take a bit of a bad step, my left ankle twisting just ever so slightly.

Oh, shit. Bam. There it goes, no more stealth… Just my normal self, and I've fucked this up. So I move too quickly, it kicks me out of cloak, but if I move too slowly, I hit something and cock up.

"It's not about moving slowly," Mission chuckles, sitting on top of a cargo container. "You have to move fluidly, it's sudden things that'll push you out. Once you get it down, you can move just as quickly as you normally would. That's why I said different, not slowly."

"You might have picked the wrong field," Canderous comments from across the cargo hold. "You can sneak around and dance about; you're going to fall on yourself again."

"I'll get it," I grind my teeth together. "It might just take a while."

"Query: What exactly is your definition of 'a while,' meatbag?"

Shut up, HK. Keeping Mission's advice in mind, I hit the stealth field generator once again. This time, there's not as much of a reaction to it, and I start moving right away. No sudden movements, make everything flow. Sounds a lot like something my old martial arts instructor told me, really. Sure, not in sparring, but with the artistic forms… That might have been a while ago, but surely I can pull something out of there…

I turn around, heading to the other end of the cargo hold, making sure my movements are much more stable. I'm doing well enough, then… Going at a steady pace now. Mission was right, it's just a different way of moving. Must be a habit for her, I'm thinking myself to death here. Probably why you can't use this in combat in the original game.

I notice for the first time that now that I'm doing this correctly, the shimmer is a bit less noticeable. And since I'm obviously quite close to my own limbs, that means that anyone further away isn't going to notice me moving as much. Though, I'm not going anywhere too quickly.

Busy concentrating on my work… What the hell?

I face-plant right into the deck, metal armour clanking against the deck plates. I look up, seeing Canderous looming above. Well, this isn't that much of an unfamiliar position. Bastard must have tripped me when I wasn't looking, or something. This time, though, now that I haven't been burning every calorie in my body, I am capable of getting back on my feet.

"And that's why you don't see a whole lot of people using field generators on the battlefield," Canderous says. "All it takes is one blow, one shot and you're going to lose your advantage. That's why only Mando'a commando units use cloaks, for a surprise shot or infiltration."

"That's if you're boring," Mission argues. "Sure, there's slicing and all that to do, but if you're quick… If you're careful, all you need is a bit of cover, and you can move again with stealth engaged. You can use that surprise shot. Again, and again."

I frown. "I'm not even close to being able to do that."

"Commentary: I feel obliged that this particular form of strategy is not widely used, therefore field testing and relevant data is limited. In addition, there are a number of droids are able to penetrate a stealth field with their own sensors."

"Let's do it again," Mission says, ignoring the assassin droid's ever so helpful input. "We don't exactly have all the time in the world, and I don't happen to have any half-drunk Vulkars for you to practise against."

I smile just a bit at that. Shame I didn't show up a few days earlier on Taris, I could have learned some things before I got caught in this rather big mess of things. "Don't tell me that you're going to let me go up against you there." I guess that would be fairly amusing, but as long as Mission has apparently been doing this…? I don't know if that would be exactly the best thing for my health.

"That would be too easy," Mission chuckles. "For right now, you're doing it again. We'll see when I have to push you."

Great, just what I need. I start it up again, and start moving right away. A moment later, Canderous barks at me to have my blaster in hand, right we're I'm standing. Shit, I'm doing well enough, then. I pull my firearm out of its holster, leaving the safety engaged. Moving quite carefully, I take the time to pull my power cell straight out of the gun and place it in my belt. Not taking any chance of a misfire here. HK would have a field day.

I hold onto the gun with one hand, moving around a cargo container as silently as I can manage. Stealth is still going alright, I haven't busted myself out of the field generator, yet. Now, how can I do this in the middle of a fight, not getting shot and not cocking up as well.

Over the next few minutes, I hear again and again from Canderous and Mission. Each time I'm forced to drop out of my cloak, reset it and move until I've been spotted. Three seconds, then five, then four, then five again. I'm not making a whole lot of progress, which only seems to pit HK even further against me. The taunts are fewer than I would have guessed.

It doesn't help that they've forced me to do a few more things in addition to simply walking. The first demand was to move faster, then even more quickly. As careful as I'm being forced to move, jogging is a right pain, and it keeps booting me out of cloak. It's quickly getting on my nerves. Crouching, turning around corners… It's all starting to add up. If I'm being honest, I don't feel like I'm even close to being ready to do any of this, since I couldn't go more than a dozen meters when walking before they started adding on more things to do and adding even more stress. I'm doing a bit better at this point, though.

"Again," Canderous commands, crossing his rather muscular arms.

Of course, again. I turn back on the stealth field generator, and right away move as quickly as I can to my right side, right up against the back right corner of this room. It's darker than the rest of the cargo hold – and I am sort of like a see through human being now. I need to start thinking that way, as opposed to just saying that I'm invisible. Camouflage, like what the Elites have, right?

I stand in the darker area of the room, and then move next to a white cargo container, and take cover behind it. Think third person shooter and _Halo_ camouflage… My back is to the plasteel container, and I'm sure that no more than the top of my head is protruding from my cover. This isn't ideal, but someone didn't have the oversight to put chest high walls all over the place. Damn designers. Would have been nice to know when ambushes are inbound, just look for walls!

Figuring I've spent long enough behind cover, I move through the centre area of the room. My footsteps are mostly quiet, if I can hear them, they sound much more muted than before. Good thing, too, since with metal shoes I can practically clomp around like a tank. I move to the left, which has more consistent lighting, it looks like. No overhead lights right overhead, so that ought to help. Mission busted me under one of them earlier. She said that unless we're in a desert like Tatooine again, I need to go after darker areas.

The exit to the cargo hold is only a meter away, I think I can make it… Oh, crap. Mission is looking back and forth, kind of near where I'm at…. I hunch over, not in any rush. It's like playing _Metal Gear Solid_, right? Don't get any alerts, and you can do it, Stephen. Don't rush… Don't rush…

Okay, go!

As fluidly as I can, I rush to the exit...

Hell yes!

I let a long breath out, my heartbeat slowing back down. That was interesting, to say the least. Now, what happens when people are shooting at me? Yeesh, that sounds even worse. But for the first time, I think I can do it. Just maybe.

Well, they said that had to try and get out of the cargo hold, and I seem to have finally managed that. Took quite a few tries, but I seem to have finally got something down. Did I finally get a talent point to put somewhere. I'm levelling up!

With probably only one as well as I'm doing.

Mission said something about going in and out of stealth, so I tap off the cloak and move back to my normal way of running. Now that's starting to feel unusual to me. Oh, this is going to get quite confusing, isn't it?

I move to hit the stealth activation, but HK's synthetic voice stops me. "Commentary: If I had a more complex emotional subroutine, I would say that I am surprised, meatbag. After 57 minutes, you seem to have finally downloaded the basic requirements to use the equipment issued to you."

"You're so funny," I snap back, "You're just a wee bit jealous that I can run around like this."

"Statement: My optical sensors are far more powerful than the equipment you are using. Speculation: There is also the possibility that your own usage of the stealth field sub-systems is so far below standard operating procedures that my sensors can detect your movements with ease."

"He didn't do so badly this time," Mission replies, "We're going to have to get your own equipment, especially if things start going downhill at the Sith Academy." The Twi'lek checks her small datapad before continuing. "We've got just four hours before sunset, and then we're all meant to be back at the Academy, just in case."

"I thought we were going to get Darius to pick one up," I frown at Mission's words, reluctant to go back out to Dreshdae. I've got a bit of a feeling that there might be a few Sith out there. We are sort of going undercover here on this damn planet, and if we're exposed, we could all get into some serious trouble."

Mission shakes her head. "The sooner the better. There's enough Dark Jedi there, and blasters are like toys against them under normal conditions."

Well, I guess that sounds a good as reason as any, especially after all the abuse that they've forced on for the past few days. I'm aching all over, I feel disgusting form having sweat probably eighty thousand gallons of salty water, but the past hour, learning how to use stealth? That was much more strenuous, really.

"Canderous?" I ask, wiping a bit of sweat off my forehead. "Are you coming as well? It'd be a chance to get of here for a reason besides making me more miserable."

"Back out into the Sith controlled, Czerka infested colony? No, but find me if you need something done right for a change."

Guess that leaves me and Mission, because I'm sure not dragging HK around. I throw a shrug, pulling Mission's stealth belt off and tossing it to her. "All right, then. You and me, hopefully without running into any of those cocky Sith blokes, yeah?"

"That'll be the day," the Twi'lek mutters, latching her own stealth belt back on, and securing her blaster. Okay, then, time to head back into Dreshdae.

A few minutes later, I step outside the _Ebon Hawk _and back outside. It's chilly outside, probably the coldest it's been since we arrived. All in all, I wouldn't say that Korriban is all that bad, it's not hot and humid like Tatooine, the air is a bit then since we're in the mountains… Now, that was pretty unpleasant when I was running out here earlier. I've definitely never been so desperate for air before.

It takes very little time to get through the initial hallway in the colony, thankfully none of the Sith or Czerka employees seem to be in the mood to heckle with Mission and I. From what little time I've had recently, it looks like most of the Sith are out in the colony around midday, and the Czerka folk can be all over the place depending on the time, but generally during work hours or if a shipment comes in.

It's a very small colony, though. All in all, Ahto City was better; at least there was a tangible largeness of the place. A city versus some sort of strange, twisted town. I've never liked small cities or towns, really. This might be the smallest place I've been during this reality-bending trip. Kashyyyk felt bigger, though that Czerka colony was probably smaller…

"They've only got one place to eat?" I groan as the two of walk into the sole cantina in the colony, near the back exit, the path to the Sith Academy. My stomach is really damn empty, the only things we have to eat aboard the ship were field rations, and those are just rubbish. "Besides, I thought we were buying equipment, wouldn't Czerka be a better place to find what we're looking for?"

"If you're looking for cheap, worthless garbage that's only going to work once," Mission retorts, "Besides, there's someone in here we met…"

Oh, right, of course, I remember now. "Was it that bloke who talked to Darius right after we disembarked from the ship? I was talking to Jordo with Carth, so…"

"That's him," Mission says, walking up to the bar and taps it several times in quick succession. "You knew about him?"

"Yeah," I quietly mutter, right as the Rodian bartender walks up to where we're standing. I've been here, how long? Rodians still look really strange to me, I think it's the eyes… Or the odd hair they've sort of got. Still, if we are buying possibly illegal equipment, or just weapons in general… There's not a whole lot of people in here at least. Just a few Sith blokes in the corner… And Carth! And Dustil! Good for them.

"_Who's this?_" The Rodian bluntly asks Mission, big black eyes staring unblinkingly at me. Yeesh, mate.

"He's with us, don't worry. He was just screwing around when we were here with Revan."

The Rodian doesn't really avert his gaze, but he reaches from underneath the bar and pulls out a small, black datapad. "_Alright, alright, but only if you're helping Revan_. _Otherwise the special merchandise is off limits, and your discount is invalid._"

"Don't worry," Mission reassures him whilst grabbing the datapad. I silently watch as she skims through the datapad's contents. "You do have all of this in stock, right?"

"_Of course_,_ they wouldn't be premium items if they were readily available or I had to have them shipped through Czerka customs._"

That sounds kind of shady. "These aren't illegal, are they?" I ask Mission, as quietly as I can. I don't really want to have this guy freaking out on me or anything…

"Depends on who makes the laws," is her only response to that line of questioning. "How much for the Advanced Stealth Generator and the Eriadu Stealth unit?"

"_Four hundred and ten fifty. Doesn't look like you really need one, if I'm not mistaken._"

I wince. I'm not really sure how much money I've got, probably not a whole lot. I'm not exactly sure how the Republic is supposedly paying me, since they're technically employing me. Oh, great, I'll have to deal with that sooner or later. No, no, that's in the future, too far to worry about. I've got other things to concern myself with, like the Star Forge and the Unknown World.

Mission doesn't seem as bothered by the price tag. "I thought you said that you had exclusive items? You could probably buy the Eriadu unit from any Czerka post within a ten light-year radius."

The Rodian practically snatches the datapad back. "_There are very few stealth units that are available for public use and haven't been claimed by either the Republic or the Sith militaries Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get any stealth equipment at all?_"

Oh, don't tell me that all of our options suck…

"Make it eight hundred and we've got a deal," Mission says, producing a rather meaty stack of credits. Oh, dear, that's quite a bit of money for someone to be spending on me, at least this gold armour is second-hand. I don't really want to know how much the blaster cost… I know that Carth, T3 and Canderous all procured additional gear as well, but I still feel kind of bad.

"_Done_," the Rodian makes a note on his device before stashing it back underneath the bar. Just a second later, he pulls out a belt, placing it on the counter right in front of Mission. Looks a lot like her own stealth unit, actually. The Twi'lek tosses it in my direction, and I barely catch it. I was never a good catch, better not drop this one.

I'll have to put this on later, not going to change in the middle of this establishment. "Thanks," I smile, "Now I owe you quite a few credits, I guess."

"Well, I grabbed quite a few of them from one of the Sith soldiers back on the _Leviathan_," Mission smirks. "Still, you could just pay me back with dinner. Didn't we make some sort of agreements back on Kashyyyk?"

Damn, too bad that I ate fucking field rations just an hour or two ago. Not to mention that those vile things fill anyone up for twelve hours. Ideal for combat situations, but it just tastes like cardboard. "I forget exactly what it was, but honestly I don't think I can physically eat anything right now."

Mission leans on the countertop, and the Rodian moves back to his more legitimate customers, the ones that are just paying for drinks instead of armaments. "Alright, I'm not really hungry either, but let's have dinner. You, me, no training for an hour. Once Darius comes back with that last Star Map, we're rushing off to the Star Forge."

Now, that doesn't sound like a bad idea! "You're going to hound my ass when we get back to the _Hawk_, aren't you?"

"You can bet on it, I've had to take out Vulkars that had a more comprehensive knowledge of stealth, and between Zaalbar and I, they didn't exactly last very long. Just imagine what happens after we leave Korriban." Mission waves a few fingers in the direction of the Rodian salesperson and bartender. "Two juma, non-alcoholic."

I take one of the two amber drinks, contained in little more than a shot glass. "You don't want to get me drunk?"

Mission takes a small sip of the juma. "It wouldn't exactly take a whole lot to do that. I might be able to hold a few drinks, but you? I think it might take a few ounces before you pass out."

I take a sip of my own drink, and damn does that burn. It's like ingesting napalm. Damn. "It's not my fault that I've never had more than one alcoholic drink in my life. Strong stuff, made my fingers tingle a little bit. But look, I didn't live on somewhere like Taris."

"Taris wasn't all that bad," Mission says, though I have to disagree with that sentiment. "The people who live… Who _lived_ in the Upper City, they never got their hands dirty. Big Z and I rarely went up there, but you could've fit in there. Wouldn't have to deal with Vulkars and bar fights. Before the Sith showed up, that is."

Okay, it might not taste that bad, upon a second drink. "Maybe I never had the time to appreciate it. Went from a nice, calm home into the heart of a crazy city that I didn't realise could even exist in the blink of an eye. Then, I met you and had a load of fun in that Undercity."

"It's hard to believe it's all gone," she admits, finishing her drink. "It might not have been the best planet in the galaxy, but the Sith reduced it to a pile of rubble in an hour. Everyone I knew there but Zaalbar…"

"Tell me about," I admit. "I mean, I know it's different, but my home is gone, too. But-."

Mission interrupts me. "I know, I know. It hasn't gotten much easier. Do you ever think about it, though?"

I finish the juma juice, finally kind of enjoying the taste. Strong, bitter, but I think I like it. "Sometimes…" I don't think I'll go into a whole lot of detail. Past few days, I've definitely been thinking about Taris. I might have been on some serious pain-killers during the Sith attack, but I remember it. Vividly. Yes, I've been fighting for weeks, but that was something else. "I try not to, though. I feel like a bastard, though. I knew it was coming, hanging over my head the whole time."

Mission laughs, but it's not a gesture of amusement, her laugher is hollow. "It sure helped out with Griff. So don't worry, you're not entirely useless."

"Oh, thanks," I quip. "Just mostly, I take it? Let's face it, even if I might not be the most able-bodied guy, you still like me."

"Enough that we're sitting in the sole cantina on the planet, having non-alcoholic drinks."

"Yeah, it sure sounds great," I move over to one of the barstools, and Mission does the same. "I don't think this is what I had in mind for a date."

"You could have asked earlier," Mission rolls her eyes. "During all that time we were waiting for Darius to train as a Jedi…"

Oh, goodness. Don't even get me started on all that I was going through at the time. "I was dealing with some things. Besides, maybe I hadn't made up my mind about you then."

"Please," Mission snorts. "Knowing you, I bet it was well before we got to Dantooine."

"Actually, it was on Kashyyyk. Took a while," I sheepishly admit, starting to become really uncomfortable. My cheeks are starting to feel really red, and I'm my stomach is turning over. I don't normally feel too nervous around Mission about this sort of thing, but when this comes up… "But, um… You?"

Mission takes a breath, and I notice that she looks away briefly to order a second helping of drinks. "That depends on if you're asking about the moment where I realised you look half-decent, or when I figured you weren't all that bad. It'd be during the swoop race, and then on Dantooine, when you were learning to use that blaster."

"I'm so glad," I deadpan, taking the second drink. It's not as good as soda, but I kind of like it.

Mission does the same, and finishes in one gulp, placing the empty glass and the credits on the bar. "You haven't done this very frequently, have you? I've never gotten someone to share feelings by hitting them multiple times."

Oh, goodness. I bite my tongue, now I'm really feeling not so great anymore. Don't worry, you'd really have to try to screw things up now, Stephen. "I need a special touch, but if it makes you feel better, a Sith soldier went at me on Taris. It was loads of fun, don't worry."

"Did you have a smart-ass comment to share, and then profess your undying love to him, too?"

Great, I was hoping that we could just forget about that, but apparently that's not the case. Shit. Maybe I ought to have snagged an alcoholic version of this drink. Let me try and wise-crack my way through here. "Nah, I can't be that that public about who I fancy. He was even more abusive than you are, though."

Mission, thankfully, just laughs. "If you're done with that juma, we're going to have cut this meal a bit short."

I finish the second glass. "This isn't much of a date, I'll have to you know. Granted, I haven't had many other ones, but I think you're supposed to get rid of me in a few hours."

Mission pushes the two empty glasses forward, along with a small stack of credits. "I think it's the best you're going to get in the middle of a war, especially since you need me to teach you how to do anything. And for the record, it hasn't been half-bad of a date."

Well, I feel much more relieved then. "You're right, best we're going to get for quite a while, I think." I walk away from the cantina, playing with the new stealth belt in my hands. "Honestly, I'm worried about what's going to happen when we leave this planet. From what I know, it's not going to be easy."

"What exactly do you mean?"

"Unless we can avoid it, there's a planet near that Star Forge," I slowly explain, practically gnawing a hole through my bottom lip. "It's got everything, Rancors, bloodthirsty natives and a lot of Sith. Trust me, our final destination isn't going to be any better. Bloody warzone is what we're going to leap into."

"This is why you've been distant recently, hasn't it?" Mission asks. I thought I was hiding that fairly well… Apparently not. I really have been chewing on this for the past few days, and I can't help it. We're pretty much jumping into hell here. "We've made it this far, and you should know better than anyone – we're going to make it through this."

"I know you will, and Darius will… Even HK," I admit. "But I…" Fuck, how do I say this. Of course I know they'll all make it, pushing aside the whole Dark Side Darius issue. I've seen each one of them in combat, and I know that on some level there's real danger in reality as opposed to a video game… "I just don't think I'm going to make it. It sounds pathetic, but… I've broken bones, screwed up enough times that I'm lucky to be alive."

Mission sighs. "We're in this together, and we have been for a long time. You know that. You, me, Big Z and even that stupid droid. If you think we can all do this, you're included in that. Besides, Stephen, I'll be keeping an eye out, just for you if that makes you feel any better."

Well, I don't know if that does or not. "Maybe a bit," I tease as we walk back into the _Hawk_'s hangar bay, the sun even lower in the sky than when we left and the air is a touch more chilly too. "I didn't realise you had such an emotional investment in me."

The blue-skinned Twi'lek stops outside the loading ramp. "You wouldn't, but you really haven't figured out why I stopped you back on the _Leviathan_, then?"

I stop in my tracks, heart racing. Where is this actually headed? I mean, I sure have thought about that day – between sharing my origins and that whole _Leviathan_ ordeal… "Was it the same reason I gave you back on Manaan?"

Mission turns to face me, smirking. "Do you really need to answer that question?"

I'm not quite sure, but I'm leaning towards no... Well… That's refreshing. I think.

* * *

"Fuck!" I swear, my stealth field failing, yet again. For what has to be the millionth time. I don't think this model I've been using recently is as good as Mission's, not to mention she mentioned that her own equipment has been modified considerably. However, she's more forgiving my current opponent. Granted, this is still training, but it's sort of my final test, my end-of-training boss battle, so to speak.

I'm not exactly doing very well, though. Third time wasn't exactly the charm. I'm back in the cargo hold, and for our purposes, it makes a good place to practise. Plenty of those white plasteel cylinders and large silver boxes. I kind of wonder what's in all of these, actually. They have to be Davik's, which means that for all I know, there could be smuggled goods, spice or plenty of credits. In fact, I'd rather not know.

"Analysis: You have been detected in a position that would render you vulnerable to numerous forms of attack. You have a seventy eight point four two per cent chance of near-immediate death."

Smug ass. "I'm trying my best," I snap. "Doesn't help that you've got sensors instead of eyes, you sod."

"Statement: The Sith employ numerous droids, and it is worth noting that my own systems are of Sith origin. While there are no models like this one, there is a high probability that equipment can be used against you in armed combat."

I really don't like HK anymore. "Let's just do it again, alright. How long have we got? About fifteen minutes before we leave?"

The droid doesn't avert its gaze, though its eyes flicker in intensity. "Query: Given your numerous failures so far, would that leave six or seven remaining attempts to complete this task?"

"Just another unsuccessful one at most," Canderous comments, the Mandalorian running a final weapons check before we head off to the Sith Academy. It's only been half an hour past sunset out there, and HK is right about something, there's not a whole lot of time available to us before we need to get going. Darius was pretty determined to just walk out of the Academy the instant he returns from the final test, but I'm not so sure. I've seen some impressive things from the former Sith, but between the headmaster and Yuthura, I think he'd be hard pressed to get through that and not have the Academy students jump him, along with all the rest of us.

Okay, stay cool about this. Besides, it won't be nearly as bad as the Unknown World and the Star Forge… Right, I need to get my mind in gear and get this last go right for once. I've gotten close more than once, but that droid seems to spot my every time. I think he's cheating. The objective isn't all that difficult. I'm supposed to start in the entrance to the cargo hold, and then move around the room. Then, I was meant to sneak around and get a 'shot' off on HK, but I haven't managed to do so yet.

Of course this was Mission and Canderous' idea, a test before we head off. I've got quite a ways to go after this, but I'd like to at least get this bit down. Alright, here we go again. I've done this enough times that I'm just going to nod to the stupid machine.

Five seconds before HK starts going after me. Instead of moving right away, I engage the stealth field. This particular one doesn't bother me as much as Mission's did. Either that, or I've just gotten more used to it. Not quite sure.

Two seconds… Alright, first box in front of me… I move around it, using it as a screen. My mental countdown hits zero, and I can just barely hear HK's head slowly rotate back and forth, watching. Okay, move slowly… Yep, there's that droid. The first time we did this it really freaked me out, since its clutching its usual blaster rifle. I was assured the safety was on, just like my pistol is. He might be able to take a round, but I think I could only do that if it were a glancing shot to my chest armour.

HK 'looks' towards the entrance, so now's my chance. It isn't quite muscle memory, but I force myself to move fluidly and somewhat quickly behind the next box. Cover to cover to cover. Thank goodness for these. Well, I'm only half hidden. I'm stationary at the moment, and that seems to be the best option – less interference to the stealth field. Shit, he's staring right at me. I hope that he's not actually able to see me, though I think he might be able to…

No? Okay, then. I wait until the time is alright, and I start to make a move towards the next box in the sequence. I've made it further than that, but I seem to always get caught on the last bit of cover, the fourth one. It's only a meter or so from where I'd like to be, but every single time HK has caught me there.

Bastard.

I could go for that again… No, I've got a better idea. I'm going to go back the way I came, circle around the cargo bay entrance, and get my shot. I turn back around and move the way I came. Okay, slowly this time… The droid is moving slightly towards the spot where I just was… Almost there, I haven't been closer. I really should have played more stealth games, or tried stealth in _Deus Ex_. Would have been more useful than swimming.

The assassin droid doesn't quite have its back to me, but I think it's as close as I'm going to get on my last try – especially with the timer counting down on me. I reach for my blaster pistol, and I switch the camouflage off as soon as the gun is locked in my hand. Safety on, arm up…

God damnit. Close, but not enough. HK must've spotted me at the last minute, his blaster is pointed to a spot just to my right – a practice that I insisted upon after looking down the barrel of a surprisingly long blaster rifle.

"Analysis: You have been detected," HK drawls, a hint of smugness seeping into the mechanical, synthesised voice.

"We appear to be at a standoff," I counter, not lowering my weapon. This might be a practise, but I'm not putting it down first.

HK, of course, doesn't seem bothered by this. Intimidating? Possibly, but certainly annoying. "Speculation: From this range, the weaponry used on my own platform is more capable of placing a blaster shot through your meatbag skull or searing your flesh to a crisp than you are of damaging my exterior casing."

"It's fine for now," Mission says, shaking her head at the droid's suitable analysis of the situation. Honesty is great, though, it might not be exactly what I want to hear right about now.

Well… I know I've made progress, and this isn't going anywhere. Sighing, I let my arm fall, holstering my blaster. Hopefully that doesn't get a whole lot of use over the next few hours.

Canderous' gruff voice, though, is a welcome change from HK's. "I'm surprised you've even done this much today. You've got a fairly good chance of getting yourself killed, but I wouldn't say it's any less than you have had before now."

"Oh, thanks," I briefly smirk. "I take it we have to be going now?"

"Almost anything beats being coped up and running you through the drills applied to children."

"I don't recall you complaining when Darius dished out assignments," I say, running through my own check. Alright, I've got everything. Mostly shiny armour? Yeah, and a heavy blaster to go with it too. I might not be as capable as Carth is, using two, but who cares? I just can't dual-wield, then. Spare ammunition… I don't carry a whole lot.

Canderous heads out of the _Hawk_, with the rest of us quickly behind. "And have you seen this planet? It's a dead world, with only a handful of Sith to populate it. Nothing of worth to a warrior here – just ruins that carry meaning only to the more naïve of Sith."

"Statement: In my observation, meatbags seem to have an inordinate obsession with past events and small artefacts with little meaning. Without tactical relevance, there is no purpose behind such constant scrutiny."

"Oh, I don't know about that," I frown, eyes adjusting to the darkness of Korriban at night. Cloudy skies, by the look of things. Very few stars… "There's a difference between this and personal history. I've never been a terribly big fan of archaeology, though. I mean, it doesn't have too much of a point without a personal connection."

"You're right, but there's something you're forgetting," Mission points out. "It doesn't matter if you believe it or not, but the Sith have torn half the valley apart to find a sword. It has tactical value to them."

HK continues to noisily walk beside me, and I can't help but wonder if he was ever built for sneaky assassinations. Awfully loud. "Statement: While the Jedi, and the Sith, seem to have a strong belief in 'The Force.' However, careful planning and precision are far more effective tools."

"With all your talk of mass murder, I'm surprised to hear you even mention precision," Mission scoffs.

Oh, no. Don't get him started!

"Clarification: Assassination theory and execution of said theory are my primary functions. It is simply my own amusement to commit wanton slaughter and termination of relatively innocent meatbags."

"We should have gotten a refund on Tatooine," the Twi'lek comments. Yeah, but then we would be spared his insipid ranting. Amusing if it's directed at someone else.

Damn, we're already at the doors? The Sith guard opens the door for us.

"Looking to the past is useless, it's better to stick to the present, or the future. Especially on this planet," Canderous butts back into the conversation, probably to keep HK, Mission and I from arguing any more. He's got quite a point, though. Especially since we're standing in the Sith Academy. It seems much more quiet and empty than when we here last. Well, if Darius went ahead and got that spot amongst these guys, there's quite a few less prospective students.

Almost like a tomb.

Damn, I really do hope Darius can get Yuthura and Uthar sorted out. Until then, it's waiting time.

I hate it already.

* * *

**Review, please!**


	27. Chapter 27: Nameless, Neglected Planet

Chapter 27: Nameless, Neglected Planets

"Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over again, but expecting different results."

~Albert Einstein

**Author's Note: So, things are starting to wrap up. We've got the Unknown World in this chapter, and as I'm sure you know – the Star Forge isn't so far away. I can't believe how far I've gotten in this piece, and all the reviews and readers I've had along the way.**

**Thank you all.**

* * *

Well, it's not every day that I get worked up for no reason whatever.

It took almost an hour before Darius came back from the Valley of the Dark Lords, and much to my surprise, there wasn't a sudden, bloody outburst from every Sith Master, student and guard. Yuthura was with him, limping all the way. I wasn't privy to the details at the time, but I was worried. Anything could have happened back there. The Sith were all confused, hushed whispers filling the corridors as we all quietly walked out of the Academy.

Still, the slightly avoidable conflict is now out of the way, we've just got the Unknown World and the Star Forge left. Though, if someone knows about the disruptor field, is it possible that we can avoid it altogether?

With Korriban done, though, I realise how far we've come. Just a few weeks ago we were leaving Dantooine, and before that most of us met on Taris, where I got teleported to. And now? We've been all across a galaxy! Kashyyyk, Manaan, Tatooine, Korriban and the _Leviathan_. The scale of it all is monumental! I've stepped foot on so many different planets, seen things I could have only seen on a telly screen. It's so different from the real thing.

Though, the real thing isn't all as glorious as it sounds. As many scrapes as I've had, no way.

And now, we're going to end all of this. And just to make things worse, it's a battle that's going to determine the fate of the galaxy. I really need to go after Selena, sticking me in this situation. Whenever I do see her again, that is.

Along with everyone else, I gaze into the blue-tinted image of the galaxy before me. Our position, Korriban is nothing more than a red dot near the bottom. The other Star Map planets are yellow dots all over the place. To make things even more confusing, there's a second layer of to all of this, a few stars and red triangles. A good chunk of it is missing, though. I take it that's why we needed the Maps in the first place.

"Add the data I brought back from the last Star Map," Darius says from across the main hold, chin resting in his hand.

The image changes as T3 adds the relevant data, completing the picture. The second layer is more or less finished, though there are some very small patches missing. However, all of the triangles overlap in one spot, in the outer edge of the galaxy. There's not even that many other stars in the area, I wouldn't have even guessed that it was in the galaxy. Unknown Regions, I take it.

We all take a minute to stare at the holographic galaxy map, but Carth breaks the rather tense silence. "So that's it, then? The Star Forge is all the way out there."

Darius nods, pacing ever so slightly in front of the image. "T3, I want you to lay in a course with this navigational data. Come back to me with an estimation as soon as possible."

The astromech droid races off towards the cockpit, the map vanishing the instant he moves. "Before you ask," I speak up, "The Star Forge has a disruptor field, and it'll fry our electronics and send us crash-landing onto a rather desolate planet. Where we can disable it."

"Well, we can avoid that now, can't we?" Mission says from where she's at, leaning over the centre table. "And what exactly is our plan when we get there? Unless you plan on knocking Malak's door and asking him to come out."

"We let it happen," Darius bluntly answers. "If we don't, the disruptor field is going to hinder any efforts to get to the Star Forge, especially if we signal the Republic fleet to attack once we get there. As long as we don't take too long on the planet, that'll bide us time while the Republic fleet arrives."

Oh, great. The Unknown World, I'm worried about that too. And there's no way out of there, is there? "It's a strange place, and the natives aren't going to be exactly pleased to see us."

"Natives? Who lives there that hasn't been run out of the planet by the Sith?" Jolee says, "Seems like they would have made an effort to get rid of anyone that would be a risk to their damned super-weapon."

"_It's not like they went and got rid of all of my people on Kashyyyk_," Zaalbar points out with a hearty growl.

I don't honestly think they have the manpower, but sometimes it does seem like they have quite a few people to mindlessly throw at us, both in reality and in the original video game. "It doesn't honestly matter. There's an ancient temple that controls the disruptor field, and the natives can't get in. Just Jedi or Sith, but they need the natives, too."

"Are they the ones that built the Star Forge?" Darius asks, raising an eyebrow. "Why the hell can't they get in there? It doesn't add up."

"I'm not quite sure," I admit, holding onto the conference table as the ship rather violently lurches. "They built it, but it was so long ago that they busted back to a really primitive state. Even though they can't get into the temple, they're the ones that are capable of opening it."

The Jedi stops for a moment, listening to T3 as the droid whistles and beeps, apparently back from his task. Ah, alright. That was a hyperspace jump back there, then. "So we signal the fleet, land, and get to this temple as soon as possible?"

"It's as good of a plan as any," Carth speaks up. "There's a Republic fleet that's within a reasonable jump time, Admiral Dodona's forces. Depending on the Sith forces, we might be able to strike a victory for the first time in a year."

"More than that," the Jedi slowly says. "The Star Forge is important to this war, without it, the Sith aren't going to be able to recover. Especially not after I kill Malak. We've got about four hours before we drop out of hyperspace, I've got some work to do, I expect you all do as well."

Darius waves a lightsaber for emphasis, heading for the workbench in the back. The rest of us scatter, all sort of going our own separate ways. HK is still standing around, but that's his usual state. Not like he has to rest or anything like that. Damn droid. Oh, what am I going to over the next eight hours? I'm physically sore, but after all the stress back on Korriban, I can't say that I'm exactly tired.

Might as well see what Carth is up to, especially since we didn't end things too well last time. I haven't seen him during the few days of hell that Mission, HK and Canderous put me through. Hopefully that pays off well over the next few hours. With the wild beasts, violent natives and ass-ton of Sith? Could very well be the difference between life and death. Knowing my luck, there's only so long that someone could skate the line on these combat situations.

"Hey," I greet the older man, taking a seat next to the Republic soldier. It's something, that hyperspace tunnel. "Thanks for sticking up for me back in the briefing. It's nice to have people backing me. I can't blame you for not believing me, though."

"Don't think about it," Carth says, adjusting in his pilot's seat. "I still don't know how much you actually know, but I'll accept it for the time being. Especially since you were right about Dustil, and the Academy."

"Yeah, and I know this isn't going to be an easy situation we're flying into," I admit, tapping my fingers against my right leg. At least that doesn't hurt anymore. "So, we either die or we win, right?"

"I try not to think of it that way," Carth admits. "We've got a job to do, a mission. The Republic is depending on all of us, especially right now. Trying to work yourself up over it? That sort of distraction is going to get you killed."

"I know, I know," I sigh, relaxing ever so slightly. "It's hard for me, that's all. But I'll try my best, don't worry. I might not be as useful as anyone else here, but I'm committed at this point, aren't I?"

"We're all in it for the duration, so to speak. There's a lot riding on this, you know."

"No kidding, as if Taris wasn't enough of a lesson there," I frown. Taris, that was one hell of a nightmare by the end. I won't be forgetting about that anytime soon. Or ever, judging by that fiery hell-hole as we escaped. If I wasn't drugged up at the time, the memories would be even worse. "So we've got a few hours to kill, doing anything particularly exciting?"

"The ship's guidance systems need a touch of calibration before we revert to normal space," Carth comments whilst working away at the control panel.

How droll. "Sounds dry," I shake my head. I wonder if there's anything that isn't so technical that he's up to. I mean, if there's a chance we aren't coming back, that's a hell of a way to use your free time. Well, I'm sitting here talking with a Republic soldier from a video game, so I'm not any better. "If you don't mind me asking, Carth, how was Dustil, while we were waiting for Darius?"

Carth stops his work for a moment. "Better, but there's not a lot of chance that we can just make up over the course of a few days. He's a clever one, though, and he sure doesn't like being tricked. Assuming we make it back from this alright, we might talk again."

"That's good," I smile, happy to hear that Carth and Dustil are doing considerably better. "I'll let you get back to your work, then. I've got a few things of my own to wrap up."

A bit of a lie, but it's not like it matters in the least. Honestly, I don't know what I'm going to be doing over the next few hours. In the worst case, we're flying towards our deaths, and it's not like I'm going to be saying goodbye to anyone. Hell, everyone I know is on the ship. Err, and Griff, but we're not going to count him in anything.

I push myself out of the seat, giving one last glance out the cockpit windows before I head out of the room. It's cool, that hyperspace tunnel. I tried to look up how that hyperspace stuff works, but I just don't think I can wrap my head around it. Assuming I do stay here, in this reality, that's one field that I'm not getting into at all.

The main hold is almost empty, save T3 and HK. I pass the two of them, heading off towards the port dormitory. Everyone else has their own things to be doing, by the sounds of it. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm not going to go around bothering everyone right now. Eight hours…

The port dormitory is empty as usual, especially since I've claimed at as my own little spot. Originally we all kept our gear in the two dormitory rooms, but things became a little less organised after the _Leviathan_. I open the locker, taking my stealth belt and blaster off and placing them inside. I'm not carrying deadly weapons for the next few hours.

It's a surprisingly empty locker, though. Aside from what I've just put there, all I've got is a BlackBerry and a leather wallet. I pull both out, and take a seat on one of the beds. I really should have brought more with me.

I turn on the mobile, pleased to see the charging systems in the locker are working. It's completely mad, I used to use this thing for everything. Checking the internet, getting messages from family and friends… Smartphone my ass, it doesn't do a damn thing now. I take a look at the messages, the most recent of which was that failed message to my mother that I tried to send on Dantooine.

Stupid, stupid. I wanted to say something to them, and I couldn't. Goodness knows what my family thinks happened to me. They probably think I'm dead, for god's sake.

I'll never, ever see them again – and if I really do die, it's not like I can say anything to them. I can't even remember what the last thing I told them was… I guess in the end, it doesn't really matter. I can't go back, unless I can wring an answer out of that Selena character. Especially if she's been lying to me.

I finger through the contents of the wallet, the scraps of my old life flashing before my eyes. ID cards, debit cards. Worthless, worthless, worthless. I has only been two months, but I feel like I'm a completely different person.

Two months, and I've survived the destruction of an entire planet. I've learned to use a gun, fight giant monsters, and I met people that I only thought existed in a telly screen. Not to mention a rather fantastic girl.

I've broken the same leg a few times, and gotten myself nearly killed so many times. I'm nowhere near as bad as that assassin droid, but I've terminated quite a few people since I showed up on Taris. Yes, it was for self-defence, but if someone compiled a list of my sins, those murders would be on there. Along with deception and casual lies.

That's turning out to be some list, there. It's not exactly things that I could have seen myself doing before I showed up. Fate makes fools of us all – especially me.

I take another look at the failed text message. How things have changed, and there's no turning back. If only someone told me that the day I left. I probably wouldn't have believed them, but it could have very well been a better introduction than just throwing me on Taris without even a warning!

But, now that I think about it – I don't know… Would I do it all again?

I think I would, I would do all of it again. Kill, lie, I know I could have done things differently, but as far as things turned out… I would do it again. And I think that I could live with all of it. I miss my family dearly, but there's no turning back anymore.

I can live with it.

Okay… I turn of the BlackBerry for the last time, done with it. I'm not going to get rid of these things, but the old days are over I guess. I place the mobile and the wallet back in the locker, sighing heavily as I lay down on the bed.

I _can_ live with it. I will live with it.

* * *

Wow. That's really impressive. Distance is sure playing tricks with things, but that's damn massive… There's a dozen Sith ships patrolling in front of the Star Forge, and not little fighters. No, the massive _Leviathan_ type ships that are fully capable of ripping our _Ebon Hawk_ apart in an instant. Not to mention, they're apparently somewhat more powerful than the standard _Hammerhead_-class warship the Republic uses. At least, that's what a lot of the HoloNet reports say. For the most part, HoloNet seems pretty reputable, sort of like Wikipedia and the internet as a whole fused together.

The Star Forge. Yes, I've only seen it in in-game cutscenes, but it looks just like it did in the game. It's a marvel – it looks a bit small next to the system's sun, but the Sith ships are like ants. The closer we get, the more apparent the ribbon between the Star Forge and the sun becomes. Pretty cool.

The downsides to this rather nifty view: I'm trapped in this tiny little compartment, manning the ventral gun turret. I'm not going to freak out… But still…

"Holy shit," I mutter, taken aback by the massive station. It's rapidly getting closer, the Sith ships getting larger, and the Star Forge quickly filling my entire field of view. Sith fighters are starting to come visible too, more than little swarming pinheads.

"Looks like we're going to have fighters on us any second," Canderous says from the top turret, voice running through my headset that I've temporarily donned for the purposes of turret duty. I've had the blasters ready right after we jumped from hyperspace, so this is going to be interesting.

I adjust my headset right as Darius' voice fills the line. "Sith fighter squad on approach, Canderous and Stephen, you've got to hold those fighters off until we can send a signal to the Republic fleet."

"Alright," I confirm, flipping on the digital display for the turret systems. Green dot for us in the centre, and quite a few far away red targets for the baddies. "So, Canderous, you ready to lose to me this time?"

The line is static for a few seconds whilst the red dots get closer. "Not a chance that's going to happen. Shut your mouth and start shooting."

I grin, pushing the turret towards the first wave of fighters. Eight total coming after us, five from the aft, and three from the right side of the ship. They're further away, so I guess I ought to focus on the five fighters. They're heading for the engines, I'd think, but most of them are within my targeting bracket – the digital circle that's put across the window in front of me.

I pull the two triggers in quick succession, laser bolts flying out into the vast nothingness of space. The Sith fighter in question serves down and to the right, but I track it all the same, right until the ship starts to undergo its own evasive manoeuvres to avoid the incoming weapons fire.

Die you ass-hat! Just… stop dodging so much!

Okay, firing again…

"All right!" I shout, pumping the air with my fist. That's one down! Hells yeah.

Move to the right, following the next one. That particular Sith fighter takes a shot at us, the green laser bolt striking the underside of the _Hawk_. Damn it, I'm not enjoying the sensation of being shot at, complete with the whole ship's lights flickering off for just a second. I need that, assholes.

The stars are spinning all over the place, as well as the sun, the Star Forge and some blue mass that isn't too far from here. Oh, the Unknown World! Shit, I really need to focus on something that isn't spinning… Okay, the hull isn't moving too much… focus on that. Don't get sick now, please…

Once things stop spinning, I should be able to actually hit something. Alright, that's more or less alright, I guess. Another of the Sith fighters is coming right as us, strafing run! Oh, shit. I pull on the weapon triggers, blowing the Sith fighter to a million and a half pieces, some which shower the _Hawk_.

Two down, and by the looks of this radar-thing, Canderous has gotten enough of them there's just three left. We can do this!

Before I even see the attacker, the entire ship violently shakes, nearly throwing me into a bulkhead. Shit! That was an awfully powerful blast to take from a fighter. If I've learned anything, nothing that powerful can be any good, especially not if it has to do with space combat.

Canderous, at least, echoes my thoughts. "What the hell was that?"

Things get more chaotic outside as Carth answers over the comm. "The Sith capital ships are onto us, they must have gotten a targeting solution as soon as we sent out our message to the Republic fleet."

Oh, crap! So much for space being empty, it's a lot more red and green now, turbolaser fire occupying what was once a void with only a Sith fighter or two to fill it. Along with us and the Star Forge, of course. I take a few shots at one of the few remaining fighters, but I honestly can't tell if that's what just reduced it, or if that was the crossfire from the much more powerful Sith ships. I'll have to go ahead and claim that one, for my own ego's sake.

Right after the blaster bolts leave my gun turret, my display goes dead, along with a majority of my displays. Hey, who turned out the lights?

Well, shit. I could stay in this tiny little room, without any viable weapons… No, screw that. Where's that cocking ladder? I can barely move in here, but there it is. I scramble out, wiping the sweat out of my face. It's hot down there, and I've been stuffed down there since about fifteen minutes before we were meant to drop out of hyperspace.

I brush myself off, right as our ship shears towards the right. God damn, what are they doing up there? Nobody is in the main hold except HK and T3, so I race up to the cockpit. Carth's there, along with Darius – who is clinging onto one of the two pilot seats.

"Ah, we're hit with some kind of disruptor field," Carth is desperately battling against the controls. "We're going to have to land on that planet, or else we're going to get destroyed by those dreadnaughts."

"How long do we have until the Republic jumps in?" Darius says, readjusting his position in the cockpit.

Oh dear, the planet is coming up somewhat quickly in the viewport out there. Not comforting at all. Carth, despite his current struggling with the control panel, sounds mostly calm. "We've got less than nine hours until the Republic fleet follows us here. Unless we lower that disruptor field, they're going to get torn to pieces out there."

"You might want to hold on to something," Darius dryly comments, and it takes me a moment to realise that he's talking to me this time.

I reach up above me, next to the galaxy map, and grasp a leather handle of sorts, something to steady myself as the ship only gets worse and worse – the outside isn't looking any better. I can't see anything out there but the planet, but at least land-masses are starting to become visible from this far of a distance. Alright, this is going to get pretty rough.

Darius taps a button on his wrist, the comlink. "Just to let you all know, we're going to be making a rather quick landing. Brace for possible collision."

"How likely is it that we're going to crash?" I groan, not putting aside the possibility that we could accelerate to the point where we'd smack into the planet, and die. In a horrific incident, of course.

"We're going to find out," Darius snaps, lurching forward and practically jumping into the co-pilot's seat.

This isn't going to be good, I think. Okay… It's out of my hands. Combat, I'm more in control, more or less. For the most part, I really haven't enjoyed the feeling of space travel, nor combat when I'm not using a massive turret to gun fighters down. That's a pretty enjoyable feeling, except when Canderous nicks all of my kills.

I take a deep breath, and close my eyes. Putting aside the rushing sensation, the rocking of the ship as we make our descent, and the feeling that I used to always get on roller coasters right when they made that fatal plunge…

I hated roller coasters, those damned big dippers.

When I open my eyes again, the view is quite different. The stars are gone, along with the whole wide view of the planet. There's just a bunch of clouds – almost scenic, though some of them are flying by awfully fast. Not fast enough that I think we're going to die right then and there, but if this was back on Earth, I'd be bailing out of the aeroplane with a parachute.

Yep, definitely keeping my eyes jammed shut!

Despite my refusal to take a peek outside, the shaking of the _Hawk_ isn't doing wonders for my imagination. I'd rather not think about our "landing" efforts, but I can picture about five hundred different ways that things could go poorly. The whole damn deck plate beneath my feet is vibrating, too!

Curious, I take another look out there – and there are several dozen islands. There's quite a few that are sizeable, one of which has a rather large building. That's it! That's the bloody one! If that wasn't indication enough, there's a sizeable amount of wreckage all over this island chain.

The engines behind me wheeze for a moment before pitifully firing back up. I'm nearly thrown from my standing position, it's only me clinging onto the leather strap that's keeping me from hitting something. A few moments later, it all stops, finishing with just a much more intense feeling of when the ship normally lands.

Alright, I think this ship has landed.

"Please, don't ever do that again," I breathe quickly, trying to lower my heart rate.

"Don't worry, a lot of the hyperspace systems, including the main reactor, are fried," Carth says, finishing with the flight controls, standing up. "Without replacements, there's not a chance that the _Hawk_ is flying again."

Darius gets up as well. "There's no way to repair the damage, is there?"

"It's possible to control some of it, and even with the parts we need, we're going to have to spend time working on the ship," Carth replies, walking out of the cockpit – Darius and I in tow.

Everyone else has already clustered around in the main hold, spread around as opposed to being tightly centred around the holographic table in the centre, which normally has a pretty cool map of the area. Now it's just off, whether that's because of the damage or because we're on the Unknown World.

"What's more important, then?" Canderous asks, "The Republic is going to get slaughtered as long as the disruptor field is engaged."

"You know, during our rather rapid descent, I noticed there's quite a few wrecked ships out there. Is there any chance that any of them have the necessary parts we need to fix the ship's engines?" Mission points out, which is exactly what we all need to hear.

"It's possible," the ex-Sith takes a moment to think it all over. "But Canderous is right, there's much more important things that we need to worry about. With the field up, we might as well send the Republic fleet to its death."

Well, that's my cue. "That structure out there? Big Temple? That's exactly what we're looking for, it has the ability to deactivate the disruptor field that protects the Star Forge."

"_And what about the ship components?"_ Zaalbar howls.

"I can't remember exactly, I think there might have been more than one way to get a hold of them," I admit, biting my tongue, cheeks warming when I realise that the entire crew is staring at me. I don't really enjoy being the centre of attention, and of course, I am whenever this sort of thing comes up. Yes, it's my place, and after I've been exposed for who I really am, I know I'm meant to provide whatever I can within reason… "There's a few wrecked ships near the Temple, at least one of them has them."

"We'll try to find it on the way, then," Darius nods. "But I'm much more interesting in this Temple."

"More importantly, can we just simply walk in, or have the Sith placed fifty troops inside?" Jolee snorts, clearly obvious as to how difficult this is going to be.

Oh, don't worry, mate. It's worse than that. "Probably more than that," I frown. "But it doesn't matter right now. The Sith control who gets in, the only other way inside is through the natives."

"Speculation: I would assume that means that we are going to be forced to slaughter the natives of this planet," the assassin droid butts into the conversation with his constant stream of useful information.

Jolee blinks. "There's other people besides the Sith here? I'm struggling to believe that they let anyone near the Star Forge's defences."

"I wouldn't guess that it's by choice," Canderous comments. "It's possible that they simply don't have the manpower for such an operation – or that whatever lives on this planet is particularly violent."

"Either way, we're dealing with them," Darius points out, "Once we have what we need from this wasteland, we're heading to the Star Forge, and then I've got more than a few words for the Dark Lord of the Sith."

Oh, goodness. No evil Darius, that's something I've been wanting to avoid for quite some time. Not only does it doom the entire Republic, but it's also guaranteed to get half of us killed – probably myself included. Certainly Mission.

"Carth, T3, and Mission, I want you all here working on whatever you can, get this bird flying again. Z, HK, Stephen, Canderous and Jolee, we're going out there."

Oh, good. That's going to be just dandy. I'm sure the Rakatans are going to be so lovely to deal with. "Alright, let's do this, then," I say, taking a deep breath. "You might get that whole wish about the natives here, HK."

"Hopefully not," Darius interjects, walking towards the exit of the_ Hawk_.

"Statement: Master, you disappoint me. Query: Are you certain that you would not benefit from in-depth psychological restructuring?"

Darius just shoots a dark glance at the droid, pressing a green button near the exit ramp, causing the thing to lower down. Right away, the wind blows right in my face, and the temperature and humidity rise very drastically. I'm not going to like this, at all. The former Sith Lord is the first one to step outside, stepping onto the beach – sand kicking up all around his boots.

"I hate the humidity," I grumble, stepping out onto the beach after Darius. Not as hot as Tatooine or as humid and bug-infested as Kashyyyk, but it isn't exactly nice out. Already, though, I can see wreckage in the distance, and a rather large amount of it, mostly black and burned up.

"The Star Forge has been here for a long time," Darius says, right after we're all out on the beach. "Some of these ships look ancient, and there's quite a few I don't even recognise."

"Not only that, this island looks like a battlefield, but everything is lush and green," Canderous observes, taking a look around our landing zone. "Whatever happened here happened a long time ago, even before any of this ships wrecked here. Something is happening here, and I don't like it. We should get out of here as soon as possible."

"It sure smells like bad karma," Jolee adds.

I open my mouth to make a comment, but the sounds of far off birds, or the sparking from the _Hawk_ is drowned out by a series of new sounds – footsteps and strange alien speech, and they're not being subtle about it. I haven't got the faintest clue what they're saying, but it almost sounds like they're very boastful about whatever it is that they're saying.

Alright, this isn't going to go well. I reach for my blaster, the first to do so out of the group. Everyone else does the same right after my heavy pistol is in my hand – I have the slight advantage of knowing that these guys are not friendly, and they're real dick holes.

Right as the Darius' lightsaber burns to life with a _snap_-_hiss_, the first alien walks out from behind a large boulder. They're tall, that's for sure. Well over two meters, and it's coloured a very dark grey. The strangest bit, just like the game, are how the eyes are on stalks on either side of its head.

The alien roars in our direction, hoisting a _very_ late sword up in the air. Oh, shit.

And just to make things even better, he's got friends. Two more Rakatans.

One of them is holding a blaster rifle; it looks comically small in the hands of such a large creature. Alright, that's the one that I'm going to focus on first. Darius and Jolee both have lightsabers, so he should be able to stop any crazy aliens with swords. At least, I'm going to hope so.

There's nothing to really hide behind, so this complicates things. I finger the button on my wrist, engaging the stealth field. Canderous starts firing right away, as does the Rakatan with the blaster. I move to the right, and I realise that I'm trying to walk around invisible on a beach… With sand that's going to show off my footsteps. Shit.

I raise my blaster, kicking out of stealth mode. I shoot four times at the Rakatan, three of which land right on the alien's chest. Though, it doesn't seem to have done much an impact. I awkwardly shuffle to the left, and unleash all hell on the thing until it falls to its knees. Geez, you asshole!

I get ready to target one of the two melee-wielding opponents, but I look over just in time to see a purple lightsaber blade protruding from one of the Rakatan's back. And by the looks of things, the other one is dead, too. Bloody well hacked in half by a lightsaber, too. There's got to be more out there, not to mention Rancors, so I think I'm going to have to keep my gun out. Just flip the safety on, here…

"_Thank you, sentients_," a Duros practically crawls out from behind a rock formation that's near the port side of the _Ebon Hawk_. The Duros' clothes are really tattered, and it looks like the remnants of pilot's gear. "_I thought I was surely dead, those natives are savages. You saved my life._"

"Well, they sort of attacked us, actually…" Darius starts, but the Duros interrupts.

"_If it were not for your rather timely arrival, human, I would have been in great danger. The animals already killed my friend earlier today. I thank you for saving me nonetheless_."

Darius shuts off his lightsaber. "What can you tell me about the natives?"

"_They're violent, and attack anyone they come across. I've even seen them feasting on the bodies of the dead. You're lucky you were able to stop them, the only others that have been able to hold them off are the Mandalorians_."

"There are _Mando'a_ here?" Canderous steps forward, blaster rifle in hand.

The Duros, as far as I can tell, glares at the Mandalorian. "_My crew dared not go near them, we know of their… depredations far too well. There are more than you might think, near the Temple, though that might be because they're simply harder to kill than anyone else. They've been using invisibility fields like your crewmate, then they strike and take out the natives."_

"Last question," Darius says, shifting the topic from Mandalorians, "Do you know if there's any way off this planet?"

"_I'm afraid not, human. I'm going to move on, try to swim to another one of the islands. I suggest you do the same, unless you want to fight through the natives as you get closer to the centre of the island._"

"All right, that's where we're headed," Revan orders, gesturing towards the path that the Rakatans came from. Oh, what if I don't want to go that way…?

I follow Darius and Jolee around the corner, where the open beach very quickly transforms into more of a crevice or a small canyon. The sand is considerably less prominent here, leaving more of a white sheet across the ground. Just about five minutes later, though, it opens back up, and the interior of the island is much more visible.

Including the ancient temple, towering over the landscape. I guess if you build something like that, you might as well make it big, right? Go big, or go home.

"Observation: Master, there are additional life-forms present around the corner. Judging by their anatomy, they appear to be of the same species that attacked us upon our arrival on this planet. Addendum: There also seems to be a small Rancor amongst them as well."

"Are you sure about that?" Darius double-takes, but the Jedi activates his lightsaber anyways. "How could they have gotten anything like that here? Rancors are native to Dathomir…"

I can't remember exactly, but I think I know the answer to that one. "A ship brought-."

"They've been raising them, haven't they? For a long time, until they get too big to control, that is," Darius finishes, to my own surprise. We all come to stop just before a much more open area, and I can hear the Rakatans nearby chattering on and on… Sounds like a lot more than three of them. "I… I think I remember this place."

Oh, shit. I'm not sure, but there are quite a few things about being a super Sith Lord that I'd rather _not_ have Darius remember.

Jolee raises an eyebrow. "You were here before, with Malak?"

The muscles in Darius' face contract, forming a dark mask over his features. "Yeah, but we've got other problems to worry about."

Other problems? Are you kidding me? The idea of Revan coming back to life and picking the Dark Side path is far, far more terrifying than fighting off more Rakatans and a Rancor. I'd pick that option any day. When it boils down to it, I can do this. I've been learning. I'm honestly helpless if Darius makes that choice. I know I won't sit there and let him kill Mission… Fuck, I really need to deal with this.

Now.

Well, not quite now, I really have other things to worry about. Namely, the fact that the Rakatans are bearing down on us, they must've heard us or something Darius gestures to engage, which means the safety is coming off.

One of the Rakatans shouts a mighty war cry, and the Rancor around the corner comes into view – and damn, that thing is big. Not even close to how large the beast back on Taris was, but it's easily three times my height. I honestly swear, what is with this universe and native creatures?

I really hate them.

"I guess you're pretty happy right about now, aren't you?" I turn to look at HK, firing at where I think the Rakatans are. They're not feasting on my bloody corpse. "Everything you ever wanted, eh?"

HK fires a round from his sleek rifle, and one of the Rakatan's eyestalks explodes. "Correction: Armed combat is only one of my many functions, psychotic meatbag. I much prefer executing missions involving assassination and stalking of prey."

"I'll keep that in mind," I mutter, moving behind an outcropping. Okay, got enough ammo. I look back out when some of the shooting dies down…

"Oh shit!"

That would be the Rancor, then. Glad to see all of them share the awful breath.

Darius, Big Z, and Jolee must have moved up to deal with the Rakatans, because I only see HK and Canderous here with me. Great, a lightsaber could have really helped here.

I blindly aim my blaster around the corner and fire quite a few shots. I haven't the faintest clue how well that worked, but once I finish pulling the trigger, the next course of action becomes somewhat obvious. I run, back in the direction we came, and I can hear the damn Rancor behind me. Fuck, fuck, fuckitty, fuck.

With a bit of distance between me and the Rancor, it's time to try and blow a few holes in that thing. I turn… Oh, crap, that's closer than I realised. No concern for ammunition at the moment, just kill the damn thing!

"HK!" I holler, my throat feeling as if I had dumped acid down there. "Canderous!"

The relatively close sounds of battle, lightsabers spinning and blasters firing, are briefly overwhelmed by a Rancor's mighty howl, one claw clutching onto a spewing fountain of blood from its side. Ha, suck on that, ass!

Oh, wait…

Now it's charging. At me.

Damnit, why did I do that?

The next thing I know, I'm sprawled on the sand, a good chunk of which has worked its way into my mouth. My arm feels a bit weird, and one of my sleeves is ripped. And there's a splotch of blood. Fucking claws, that's not exactly fair! I roll over, ready to fire at the Rancor and end this before it kills me.

Right when I get ready to do so, the Rancor's brain explodes, a laser bolt flying straight out of the creature's mouth – and I'm guessing that he isn't just shooting out lasers to frighten me, though admittedly that would be really damn impressive.

Focus, Stephen. Current objective – survive and get off the Unknown World. That doesn't include being eaten by fucking Rancors!

HK walks into my field of vision, and if I didn't know any better, he seems like he's gloating. I guess he might have earned that right, since he's a damn good shot. Doesn't stop him from being a dick, though.

"Thanks," I nod, getting back up to my feet. My wound doesn't seem that deep. I'll live. There's more important things to worry about. Namely, Dark Side Darius and the entire fate of the Galaxy. Those are awfully good reasons to get over a flesh wound. Heh, it's only a flesh wound.

* * *

That wasn't the only Rancor that I had to deal with on this stupid, nameless world. Thankfully, none of them were particularly large – and we were much more careful moving through the area around the Temple. There were even a pair of Rancors that weren't even being handled by Rakatans – wild ones. Still, they didn't exactly last long under sustained blaster fire. We cleared out that whole mess, though.

The Temple, despite its size, wasn't all that great somewhat close up. The entrance was covered by a wavy force-field, not unexpected. But the actual building is in a state of disarray, to say the least. As far as I can tell, there used to be a lot of ritual markers or stones, but they're either gone, knocked over, or barely standing. The building has a lot of pieces missing, but at least it's not all over the island.

Since the beaches were all on lower ground, though, we did get a good look at the beach that the _Hawk_ has landed on. Wreckage aside, HK claimed there were two small native outposts on either side of the island. One of them is heavily armed and defended, so we set off for the other one, which I believe is a much better choice – an opinion I expressed as well.

Once the Rakatan colony was in sight, though, I rather quickly recognised it. Along with the fact that their security system is more than capable of frying all of us to a crisp in five seconds flat. I've got to temporarily forget about that, and get my mind focused on something else.

Granted, that isn't easy when there's a two foot tall Rakatan that just started talking to Darius. Comically small, the little transparent blue alien. But at least it isn't trying to kill us.

As usual, I can't understand a single word that the Rakatan is saying. I'm not terribly cross about this, I've got a very, very faint idea about what he's saying, but I'm just used to this at this point. However, HK doesn't seem to be quite as amused by being left out of the loop here.

"Query: Meatbags, I find myself unable to translate this particular language. Is my own software fault, or is this particular species of meatbag incapable of communicating with proper individuals?"

"You can't understand it?" Darius turns in surprise, raising an eyebrow.

Canderous shakes his head. "My own translator isn't picking up a thing. Is there a chance that you learned their language when you were here last?"

The Rakatan draws Darius back into the conversation, and I start to add my input to the conversation, since obviously I can't understand a damn thing either. But instead, a much more brilliant idea worms its way inside my head. "You know HK, I think I can understand them, and if I'm not entirely mistaken… I think they're talking about you."

"Statement: I find that highly unlikely, meatbag."

"No really," I reply, winking to Jolee, Zaalbar and Canderous as soon as HK's head rotates back around. Oh, this is the chance that I've been waiting for. Ever since Tatooine. "The natives here apparently hate droids, and they won't even consider letting us into the Temple until we scrap you or dismantle you."

"Objection: That is not an acceptable course of action meatbag! Observation: There is a very low possibility that you are able to accurately understand the language of these meatbags. Besides, my systems are very valuable and unique!"

Darius' voice cuts through our conversation, and that only helps my case. "Alright, we'll do that. Thank you."

If I've learned anything from the second KotOR game, it's that nothing pushes HK's buttons faster than the threat of being dismantled. The hologram vanishes, and the assassin droid starts talking right away. "Statement: Master, I must object! I am far too important to be dismembered and taken apart at the whim of idiotic meatbags! Suggestion: It would be far more efficient for this unit to engage all natives in armed combat. I would guarantee that I would decimate them within seconds."

Oh, god. I can't keep a straight face. At this point, I've pretty much given up and I break into full on laughter.

I need air, goodness!

"Are you mad?" Darius asks, the Jedi looking completely dumbfounded. Then, he turns on to me. "Private, knock it off."

"Yes, sir," I mutter, quickly regaining control of myself. I'm still having a bit of trouble keeping a straight face, though. "Having a panic attack, there, HK?"

The door in front of us opens, and the security system around us turns off. Well, hopefully this goes as well as the Tusken Raider enclave back on Tatooine. I follow Darius in, who takes the time to silence me again. Right, following orders.

Inside is a rather cool room, sheltered from the worse conditions outside. Some older things are set up, including a gong. Oh, the temptation to smack that is overwhelming. Must not give in… At least there's four Rakata waiting for us. Unlike the ones we met on the beach, these are much lighter colour. Right away, one of them starts talking, the one in the middle. Though, despite what I told HK, I obviously can't listen in to them.

"Well," Darius replies, though we're getting on half the conversation. "I'm here to destroy the Star Forge. This time, that is. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I'm not Revan anymore. Not the same one anyway."

I holster my weapon, flipping the safety on as I do so. I can still pull it out in a pinch, but these are the good Rakata. And this doesn't seem to be going all so badly. I look at Zaalbar and shrug whilst one of the aliens yaps on in their own language.

"My… memories were lost, after Malak betrayed me, and I know you remember him. I'm a different person, but I've come back to kill Malak. And that includes destroying the Star Forge."

A chill runs down my spine at those words. He's going to kill Malak. I know that better than anyone, but the way he said that. He's a determined bastard, even if he's doing this for the right reasons, I think there's a desire for blood.

"_Are they going to let us into their Temple_?" Zaalbar quietly growls in my direction. I stay quiet, not wanting to talk over the Rakatans, but I just nod. As long as things don't get bloody, that is.

"I don't want violate the laws of your people again, but if that's what is expected of me for you to lower the shield in front of the Temple."

More Rakatan speech… Darius says a few things in response, but I'm sort of spacing out right now. Got a lot of things on my mind, and trying to keep track of this conversation is somewhat taxing, to say the least. When I finally come back to it, my mind actually in the present I see Darius respectfully lowering his head for a brief moment, out of respect. "Very well. I'll meet your priests in front of the Temple as soon as possible."

"I take it that went well?" Jolee blinks. "Or did you have to work the charm on them until they saw your ways? From the sound of things, they weren't particularly happy to see you again."

"They weren't," Darius says, the man rolling his inactive lightsaber between his hands. "But, I'm going in there alone, and that's for the better anyways-."

"That's absurd," Canderous scoffs. "There are going to be hundreds of Sith waiting in there. They have to know that our ship landed here – this is obviously a trap. The Temple is the only way off this world, and the Sith know it."

Darius starts the walk back towards the Temple. "It's the Rakatan tradition; I have to go in there alone. I can handle myself, and this is something I need to go regardless of the rules."

"You don't have to," I frown. "Canderous is right, the place is full of Sith, Dark Jedi, the whole lot…"

My teeth clamp down on my tongue, then my bottom lip, enough that I sincerely worry that I'm going to bite a hole straight through it. This isn't anywhere nearly as bad as when I had to share my origins – but it's still nerve-wracking. Evil Darius could come through, or evil Revan, that is. I know he and Bastila were together, and that's a damn good motivation to side with her.

"Bastila," I continue, pretty much stammering over my own words. "Bastila's going to be in there, and she's going to be waiting for you before you turn off the disruptor field. But not the Bastila you know, I promise you that."

"Bastila," Darius repeats, a bit of colour draining from his face. "I didn't realise she would be… I can deal with her. While I'm inside the Temple, I want all of you, along with the rest of the crew – search this entire damn island until you find the parts we need."

HK's mechanical voice sounds almost desperate. "Statement: Master, I must urge you to reconsider, I am fully capable of killing anything organic or non-organic that you wish to exterminate or reduce."

Amusingly enough, Darius just ignores his ever so faithful droid, stopping in his tracks – and I realise that Jolee has done the same, and is now quite a few feet behind the rest of us. "Jolee?" Darius clips his lightsaber back to his belt, slowly approaching the older human.

"They're right…" Jolee quietly says. "I think I just saw it, there's something dark inside the ancient Temple, maybe even Malak himself. I'm going with you, you're going to need someone to cover your back, kid. Your little friends aren't going to like it, but you can find a way around it."

Darius snorts. "I don't think I have any choice, then."

Wait, I've got to do something about this! Before I start heading off in my own direction, I turn to give one last look at the former Dark Lord of the Sith. "Darius, I just want to say…"

What the fuck am I supposed to say? Don't go into a massacre mode and kill everyone? I honestly don't think that there's anything that I could say to him that would make a huge difference…

"Thanks for everything, mate. Thanks."

Right then, something hits me. I'd honestly rather be there in the Temple, with Darius and Jolee.

Yes, I'm somewhat useless, but this is even worse. Just waiting for the results of something that is completely out of my control? Something that despite my knowledge, something that could spell certain doom…? I can't do shit about it. Really wrangles my ass!

Not to mention, there's an even larger battle just waiting for us on the Star Forge.

Well, this couldn't be any better, could it?

* * *

**Review, please!**


	28. Chapter 28: Star Forge Danger

Chapter 28: Star Forge Danger

"Do not be afraid; our fate

Cannot be taken from us; it is a gift."

~Dante Alighieri

**Author's Note: This chapter came out a lot later than I wanted to, but I guess that's what happens when you come down with the flu, then get slammed with tests and papers all over the goddamn place. Ugh. I really am sorry.**

**If I'm being honest, the other reason this took SO long is I wrote six versions of this chapter before I was happy. I freaking hate the Star Forge even in the game, it's so boring – especially if you're not Revan. Your companions mean nothing for the last 90 minutes of the game.**

* * *

Once the sun sets, this is going to be a lot more difficult than it already is. We've been at it for at least two hours, and I could have sworn that it was somewhere around midday around then, sun overheat, the whole lot. Either I've lost track of time, or this planet has a slightly different way of how day and night works, shorter days, maybe? I guess it's possible, isn't it because the planet rotates and day faces the sun?

Astronomy, I should have taken a class about that.

"Any luck over there?" Mission's voice echoes a bit, and I stop my work to take a look over at here, the blue Twi'lek going through some more wreckage near where the majority of the crashed ship is resting.

A Gizka merrily hops a few times in front of me. "Nothing," I frown, kicking a twisted chunk of metal that's right in front of my feet. Scrap material, there certainly isn't shortage of that on this planet. In fact, over the past two hours, I think that's the majority of what we found. No corpses or bodies, but I guess that makes sense given what the Duros we met earlier said. The Rakatans apparently eat corpses.

Meat is important, and I like steak, but that's just sick.

Still, it means that I haven't had to rummage through bodies – that's a concept I don't think can carry over into reality from a video game. Though, I'm starting to think the idea that we're just going to find parts lying out on the floor for us to use… Yeah, I'm not quite sure that's going to happen that easily.

"Tell me again what I'm looking for," I shout, stepping into a small shell of wreckage, this little bit has wires and a few parts. The first time I found anything besides metal, I was pretty excited. Only for Mission to tell me that I've found burned wires and worthless electronics from a ship that must have been a thousand years old. "Because, this doesn't have anything too different from anything else we've found."

I push around through the ruins, and it's pretty clear this is the same thing. Okay, nothing there at all, so I'm getting back out. This is the fifth area of ship wreckage that Mission and I have been looking through, after we met back near the _Ebon Hawk_. Well, Canderous is out here somewhere, but we're spread out to maximise our search. T3 and Carth elected to stay on the _Hawk_, where Zaalbar and HK decided to inspect a rather large ship wreckage – a downed Republic _Hammerhead_-class capital ship. Surely, there's got to be something worthwhile in there, since those ships are somewhat modern, from what I know.

I turn around, done with the little scraps near the larger find. Larger being relative, what I'm looking out now is nothing bigger than a decently sized shuttles. I know that we're specifically looking parts that have to do with hyperdrive. Thankfully, anything that got into this system had to have a hyperdrive, right? Or at least, I think so.

Regardless of all that nonsense, I walk inside the shell, and this one has a bit more in it. It's a mutilated mess of a shuttlecraft, but there's enough space to breathe in, and some components embedded in the burned scrap metal. Wires, the whole lot. None of it is sparking, but I haven't run across anything aside from gutted ships that are so old it's hard to imagine them even once working.

I poke around, but I don't know… There could be something in here, but I'm not expert. "Hey, there could be something here. This is pretty old, but it's more than just metal," I shout at Mission, watching the Twi'lek head over, stopping her own examination of the worthless material.

I patiently wait for her to come over, and step aside once she does so, allowing her access to the wreckage. A few wires fly out from the inside before Mission walks out, a small silver component clutched in her hand. Well, that's something, I guess. Or it could be something that she's just going to smack me with for wasting time. This wouldn't exactly be the first time that I've wasted our time looking about.

"Not exactly what we need, but there's plenty in here. It doesn't look like any of it besides this capacitor is compatible with the systems aboard the _Ebon Hawk_," Mission frowns, looking over the said device. "This is it, though, for all of the wreckage in this area. We're going to have to pass through the Temple grounds to get to the next set of ships."

"Oh, good," I mutter. "There had better not be any more of those bloody Rancors out there." I look off in the distance, and there's Canderous looking over the last of the ruins in this area. "Oy! We haven't found anything, we're going to have to move to the next area."

Great, now that my throat is nice and hoarse, let's head over there. "What if we don't find anything where we're headed? Are we going to be completely screwed?" I ask, walking towards the silhouette of Canderous, bulky frame and heavy blaster rifle black against the red setting sun.

"Worst case, we won't be able to break out of the planet's atmosphere," Mission replies, "We'll bounce back, crash again – this time with even less control. Best case, we'll be going so slowly through space that'll take over a year to get to the Star Forge, and even longer to get back to anywhere worthwhile."

"I love long waits," I snort, "Hopefully the Republic fleet shows up somewhere in that time frame…"

"There's nothing of any value out here," Canderous says, throwing a piece of rubbish aside. "There's no way that all of these ships could have lost every major component while burning up in the atmosphere. I've seen too many ship crashes, something isn't right here."

We all head back towards the Temple, only the top of the building visible over the hills. The _Ebon Hawk_ is on the other side of the Temple grounds, as well as a couple ship wrecks that we might be able to pull parts from. It's difficult to say, though. At the rate we're going, there's going to be nothing to bring back to our ship. Except enough scrap metal to make seven new ships – none of which will work!

"I think the Rakatans are pulling anything of value," I think aloud, recalling the second Rakatan tribe, the one that was considerably more vicious, and didn't know about the Star Forge. "Well, I mean, anything from these ships they don't understand."

"What purpose could they have? They're barely have any technology at all!" Mission comments, rubbing her forehead.

"Would you just leave advanced technology laying on the beach, even if you don't understand it?" Canderous challenges, "It makes sense, but the species here are too far gone for any of it to be use. They keep it all in their enclave, don't they?"

I nod. "And that's not anything the three of us are capable of. Well, in reality. Three person limit is a bit of an exception to the real world, obviously. The other tribe is way, way too powerful. And much more violent."

"And we can't communicate with them," the Twi'lek says, "Unless you really want to try and get HK to march in there, and kill everything that moves."

"I'd rather try and find something out here," I scoff, my eyes adjusting as the sun comes out from behind the Temple, the structure now fully visible as the three of us step out into large circular clearing. Just as before, there's small stone structures littering the open area – some of which are toppled over or somewhat decomposed.

Mission stops for a moment, gazing at the massive Rakatan structure, right in the centre of this field. "They've been in there for hours, we haven't gotten a word from either Jolee, Darius, or the Republic fleet. What's going on in there?"

"There must be a battalion in there, led by Dark Jedi," Canderous replies, "Revan should've taken more than just the old man into there. Of course, there is someone here who knows exactly what's in there…"

Oh, fuck off. "Yeah, I know everything. I'm not that good, mate."

"But you know more than you're telling."

"Yeah, and I'll go around and spout every piece of knowledge that I can possibly think of," I confront the Mandalorian. I'm getting really annoyed by this, and it's not exactly like it's my fault. I tried, and I know I made cock-ups. Taris, _Leviathan_, all of them! "I've already said Bastila's up there! Right at the top, after a crap-load of Sith throughout the whole damn thing."

"So it's taking that long to clear out a legion of grunts?"

"You bet!" I raise my voice, "But don't worry, there's enough Sith on the Star Forge that we could take a swim in all of them, including the replicating droids that are just about endless! That's assuming we don't get murdered by an overly aggressive Revan and Bastila-."

"Excuse me?" Mission interrupts, her words a cold knife being thrust into my chest. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Oh, shit.

I stare at my feet. "There might be a chance that Darius… Darius could join Bastila, it was an option… And with Battle Meditation and Revan's power…."

"You never mentioned this before," Mission's voice is worse now, even more icy and harsh. She hasn't shouted, and that's all the worse. I feel… Fuck, I should have mentioned this earlier. "If Darius joins Bastila… The Republic's going to be crushed…"

"And what am I meant to do?" I counter, glancing at both Canderous and Mission. "I never asked for this! Am I meant to just tell you all everything, until my ass goes sore from pulling information clean out of it?"

"You're talking about information that could mean the difference between victory and defeat," Canderous argues, the Mandalorian towering over me. Oh, the temptation to just cower and tell them everything, just get this all out of my life. But honestly, I'm getting pissed off by all this.

I sigh. "I don't know what's going to happen as much as you think I do. Canderous, you and I took care of Jagi back on Dantooine. I knew that guy from the game, I did. But when he showed up, the things he said, it was all different! And Griff, there was never Leena there to tell his what happened. For fuck's sake, there isn't a journal or a rapid transit system! I'm trying my best to tell you what you all need to know, but…"

"You might want to mention things like this beforehand," Mission frowns, running her hand straight down her face. "There isn't anything we can do about Darius right now, I don't like the idea – but we're going to have to see what happens when Darius comes back from the Temple. But really, Stephen…" Mission's voice lowers a notch, sounding… Disappointed. "We need you to tell us these things."

I open my mouth to snap a reply back, and it her words cut even deeper into gut. A pang of guilt strikes me with the force of a hammer, and the world pretty much drains of colour. Ugh, I'm so damn stupid. I can't seem to go more than a few hours without making things worse. Could the universe have picked anyone worse for this job? I don't think there is a single person less able-bodied or suitable for this.

But I've got to deal with it. I'm in this for the duration, and I can't just sit here and bitch and refuse to learn. Adapt to mission problems…

"I don't know where the parts are," I take a deep breath. "But we do need them, obviously. If we assume that Darius comes out alright, we're going to the Star Forge – and fighting through an army to reach Malak. And Darius is going to kill him.

That's what I know, or at least – that's why I bloody remember," I finish. "Unless we get a game over screen, I guess."

"Alright, alright," Mission waves me off. "There's still several wrecks out there, and we don't have the time to stand here and argue. Will you two behave long enough for us to get there?"

Yeah, yeah. I just nod, following Mission through the clearing, and I notice that during our lovely conversation, the sun is setting, almost half of it disappearing beneath the hrozion. Damn thing, why does it have to run away so quickly? Searching for these parts is going to be a lot harder when there's no light.

I step on something, a twig, judging by the snapping sound. I'm not entirely sure, so I quickly reach for my blaster, whipping it out of the holster. Okay, it might just be a stick… You can't be too careful on this planet, not when the natives are ready to eat your corpse and steal your technology. A small group of darker Rakatans ambushed us earlier during our search. Thankfully, they must have been scouts, juts three of them without any backup or Rancors.

Alright, I think it's okay… I holster my weapon, and check my immediate surroundings. Mission and Canderous are also on alert, probably from the same noise. But, there's nothing here to really worry about, just a few boulders and one pillar right next to us – but we're not that close to either the Temple or the circular pattern of rocks that surrounds the field.

Wait…

A pillar in the same area as the Temple. Shit, I really wish that I played the game before I left Earth, because if I remember correctly, there was a side quest here, one of the few on the Unknown World. And it was only if you were with Neo, the One, whatever that ass-hat was called. Invisible people, near the pillar, right?

Indivisible Mandalorians.

The Duros mentioned Mandalorians when we landed on this planet.

Oh, this isn't good.

"I think I might have remembered something," I sheepishly say, reproducing my blaster pistol, knuckles white as I grasp the weapon. "It was just a side thing, but the Duros we met, you remember that he mentioned Mandalorians? I think this is where they're at. Right here."

Mandalorians…

"Right outside the Temple?" Mission's own weapon is rather quickly armed as well, doubling the team's effective firepower. And triple, since Canderous does the same with his repeating rifle. Probably more than triple with him factored into that equation. Whatever, it's not really that important. "How sure of you are that?"

A whooshing sound goes off multiple times around us, and it's a sound I've grown to know quite well over the past few days, getting practice with a field generator. Without a doubt, I can say that the noise I'm hearing is a stealth field drop. Judging by how it sounds like it's all around us, I've either turned off my own, or there's several people out here that are just now visible. I'd hate to admit it, but that's the much more likely option – damn Mandalorians alright.

"Yeah, I think they're right here," I sarcastically quip, now that three different Mandalorians are standing around the three of us. Well, at least that's one to one odds. But between us and all of them, I'm not so sure about our odds. A gold one, a red one, and a blue one. I want to say that blue is the lowest ranking, but I'm not so sure about that. Honestly, the developers could have just been picking random models, and were not helping me in the slightest. Thanks guys.

The gold one, though, is the first to say anything, a gravelly voice being pushed through a voice filter, hiding the man inside the suit from all of us. It's strange, only looking at a metal bucket with a black visor. "Hold it you three, we've been tracking you for nearly an hour. Throw your weapons to the floor, and we won't have to shoot you."

Well, this isn't exactly going very well. I don't do as I'm told though, even though there's enough firepower to turn me into a well-cooked crisp.

I expect Canderous to step in and have a fantastic moment here, show off his Mandalorian status, but it's Mission that makes the first move, lowering her gun. Though… she is keeping the safety off, and ready for something to happen. "We're not looking for a fight."

The gold Mandalorian laughs. "Maybe we are, Twi'lek. Maybe we're looking for a bit of fun on this blasted planet, too. The hospitality isn't too great." He then turns to me, blaster barrel just about level with my forehead. Oh, good. I love being threatened at gun point. "But you might be even more valuable to us, if you're not pulling your friends' legs."

Oh, even better. Shit, Stephen, be more careful about telling everyone that you know the future from a video game, you sodding fool. Damn, I shouldn't have been so thick.

"You can go fuck yourself," I spit, tightening my grip on my blaster. Next to me, Mission raises her weapon back up to eye level, bringing us back to a lovely Mexican standoff. I can't decide if this is better or worse than straight up fighting. Stupid Mandalorian fucks. There's no chance of using stealth here, either. Unless we get into some protracted stealth battle, since they have similar stealth capabilities.

"And this is what the Mandalorian clans have come to? Raiding parties, no better than a pack of petty criminals?" Canderous shakes his head in disgust.

The gold one makes a snorting sound through the bucket. "And what have you done in the past seven years? There hasn't been a single one of our kind who hasn't become a merc, or worse."

"And you're making such an effort to change that," I challenge, trying to work any possible angle to avoid a fight that there's a decent chance we might not win. Though, once we get on the Star Forge, there's going to be one hell of an unavoidable fight. One endless one, at that.

"Enough of this!" The Mandalorian's blaster is ready to fire, I can hear the weapon warming up in anticipation, almost like a beast thirsty for blood.

All this talking has made their leader a bit… on edge, though. I expect that would be because most prey would just start shooting or start running away. I ready myself for combat, already running through different possibilities of how to get an advantage on this battlefront. Since my stealth training back on Korriban, I've been considerably more aware of the areas we're fighting through – and this isn't exactly a fantastic place to be. Wide open area, surrounded, and no cover to speak of, unless I can go ahead and count the relatively small pillar in the centre here.

My finger is a twitch away from shooting the gold Mandalorian, and to be honest, the standoff is really getting to me. With this kind of layout, it could all boil down to whoever shoots first.

I'm not sure I can do it. Just actively make the choice to shoot first, make the offensive move. Shoot, kill…

While in my mind, the words left the Mandalorian's bucket several minutes ago, it has to have been less than a few seconds. Enough time to do it, I guess. I pull on the trigger, my weapon aimed at the asshole's head.

And I don't just pull the trigger once, I push down on it several times. From the sounds of things, Mission and Canderous join in. Okay, move to the side, don't want to get hit by him…

An instant later, though, and it's all over for the Mandalorian leader. I turn to face the red one, only to find him lowering his blaster rifle. Okay, what about the blue one?

Same thing…

Well, I guess we know who was the pants in this relationship, then.

"That takes care of him," the red Mandalorian mutters, gently kicking the corpse of his former leader. "He didn't speak for all of us _Mando'a_, and I have no desire to spill any more Mandalorian blood. Our clans are weak enough as it is."

The blue joins in as well, even tossing his weapon to the ground. "If we're going to survive any longer on this blasted world, we could use more level-headed people on our side, Mandalorian or not."

"We're not staying on this ruined world," Canderous declares, "Our ship is only a few pieces away from flying off here, when Revan lowers the disruptor field, anyway."

The two Mandalorians exchange a somewhat tense looking glance before the red one says anything. "No one has been able to lower that field. Our scouting group for the Duros was twelve in strength when we landed, and we took quite a few causalities trying to find a way into the natives' shrine."

"Only a Jedi or a Sith can get in there," Mission says, the last to lower her blaster. "So we're not staying here, especially not any longer than we have to."

"She's right," I add, "There's a Republic fleet on their way here, and provided they triumph over the Sith fleet, I guess. But I'm sure they can do a sweep for survivors after they're done."

The blue Mandalorian, whatever his name is, is probably rolling his eyes under that helmet. "The Republic. As soon as they find out that we're down here, they'd probably make an effort to bomb the surface, just to wipe us out."

"Canderous, is it possible that we could use them in the upcoming attack?" I ask, frowning.

"If the disruptor field is going to be disabled, our own ship should be able to get into orbit. We're not fans of the Republic, but anyone with half a mind knows they're better business than the Sith," red-bloke replies, and he seems to be the slightly more reasonable one here.

Better than the one we… I, rather, killed.

"Our ship just needs a few repairs," he finishes. "Nothing that can't be done in the span of a few hours."

"You think it's better than waiting for Darius, then?" Mission doesn't exactly sound convinced, and I can't say I'm a terribly big fan of the idea at the moment. "We don't know if they're going to shoot us in the back or not, I'd like to point out."

"Think what you want," the red armoured Mandalorian snorts. "Trust me when I say that we want to get off this world just as much as you do, even if it means joining the Republic in their fight – just for the moment. Unlike you, we're not afraid of war."

Canderous and I exchange a quick glance. "We've found quite a few ships on our way here, if they have anything you could use, your ship could be up in a matter of hours," my friend mutters, thoughtfully scratching his chin.

"Even if we manage that, the disruptor field is still online. We're not leaving Darius and everyone else here," Mission says, scowling at me.

"I'm not saying that we should," I correct, "I know where we're going, and we are really going to need the extra help up there. Darius is going to leave that Temple sooner or later, and after that – we're going up to the Star Forge. Come on, Mission, I know that."

I don't think I'm going to mention my other motive for picking up on this idea. If we meet up with Darius and the rest of the crew on the Star Forge with an extra two blokes on our side, that means we're going to miss out on the whole beach scene where Darius, in the game anyway, kills half the party. Including Mission. As much as I'd hate to admit it, taking this route makes sure that the two of us make it a bit further.

Darius seems like a reasonable human being, but it's still one hell of a choice when you consider he and Bastila were, well... Right. I'm just not terribly pleased about Mission dying in one alternate outcome. I don't want anyone to die, but… I don't know what I'd do without Mission. As much as I playfully argue with her, or get smacked around…

Not going to lie, I sure as hell couldn't have made it this far without her. And I don't know if I could keep going out here without her.

Okay, this option doesn't sound horrible, right?

* * *

Surprisingly, Carth shared my opinion. A short conversation over the communicator, and we're set to meet up in the Star Forge once the disruptor field disengages. Nobody in the crew seems to have heard from Darius, but Zaalbar and HK apparently found the parts we need to fix the _Ebon Hawk_. One reason that Carth actually liked this plan was apparently it'll take T3 a few hours to fix the _Hawk_.

In the meantime, the Mandalorians, Canderous, Mission and I moved to the small ship that's going to be taking us to the Star Forge pretty soon. It's a bit smaller than the _Ebon Hawk_, but a touch larger than a few of the shuttles that I saw in places like Manaan. Plenty of traffic there.

Sadly, the ship is not a Basilisk. That was my first question, and the blue Mandalorian responded by telling me that a Basilisk is actually impressive, where this is a Duros vessel that they were given for their previous employment. Bit of a let-down, if you ask me. I kind of wanted to see a Basilisk. The way Canderous described it, sounded pretty fucking awesome.

Regardless of how enjoyable the ride is, I've been regaled to standing in a clearing outside while the more technologically capable people do their work. I offered to help, but I was kindly informed that I don't know a single damn thing about sublight engines. Which is true.

It's funny, back home I was always the one my friends came crying to in order to fix their computers or tinker with something around the house for my family. Now, I'm just as clueless as the people that asked for my help. Role reversal, I don't really like it. Thrown into KotOR has really changed my life. I don't think there's a whole lot that has stayed the same throughout my life in the past three months.

With not a whole lot else to do, I carefully slide my blaster pistol out of my holster, and pull the power cell out of the weapon. After checking to ensure that there's no risk with this weapon, I hold it cleanly in front of me in the same way I've been doing since Mission taught me how to use a blaster pistol.

"You're going to get yourself shot if that's how you go into a battle."

Ah, holy shit! I turn around to face the filtered voice, blaster aimed at the source – which is apparently coming from the red armoured Mandalorian. Realising that my weapon is worthless, I put the power cell back into the weapon before holstering it.

I shake my head, my heart slowing back down after that rather sudden startle. "I think I know what I'm doing, thanks."

Last thing I need is more people telling me how to fight. I've had enough of that with Mission on Dantooine – and HK and Canderous on Korriban. I think my muscles are still sore after all of that shit.

"If that's the case, you're not even all that well set up for target practice. Your stance, you're not familiar with what you're doing, are you? A soldier would hold himself with more discipline, and anyone handling a blaster for more than a few minutes would handle himself a bit better."

I throw my hands up. "You got me, I'm still figuring things out. Is that all you came out to say, then?"

The red Mandalorian ignores my sarcasm. "Earlier, before you pulled out a blaster, I think you fell back into a close quarter combat stance. A lot like what we teach Mandalorian trainees and children."

This guy keeps going on, doesn't he? "What exactly is your point?"

"If you've had training to fight with your body, treat your gun as an extension of yourself. That way you're not standing around like an idiot waiting to be shot. It'd also help with that stealth camouflage you've got equipped."

Huh. That might not all that bad of an idea. I mean, I did Taekwondo for years. That training wasn't completely worthless. I wasn't the best by any means, but it's still something to work off of. Maybe it'll help with anything that start to get close. After all, that Rakghoul back on Taris was unusually close for comfort.

Since this guy seems at least somewhat decent, I'll make an effort to be a bit more friendly, outstretching my hand. "I'll keep that in mind then. My name is Stephen, by the way."

"Kelborn," the Mandalorian replies, taking my hand and shaking it briefly. "Mandalorian Scout."

That name… Kelborn? Sounds awfully familiar. Damn, could be anything, I guess. As many things as I've seen? I'll place it in a few hours.

"So you've come out here to give me combat advice instead of helping fix up the ship?" I frown, crossing my arms.

The armoured soldier snorts. "Zuka is the only member of our crew that knows how to fix that blasted wreck of a ship. The rest of us were mostly scouts, a few Duros and Mandalorians sent on a scouting mission to see if any planets in the Unknown Regions have valuable minerals."

"Doesn't sound like honourable work for a Mandalorian," I raise an eyebrow, only half-serious.

"It's better than where a lot of our people have ended up," Kelborn retorts. "And I think it's a better option than being sucked into another war with the Republic as a main faction."

I shake my head. "Tell me about it. I had the pleasure of taking sides with the Republic when we escaped Taris. Before that, I hadn't ever picked up a blaster or a weapon of any sort. Aside from martial arts, I guess."

"You've got to start somewhere in a war like this one."

Maybe, maybe not. I glance out at the sunset, taking a deep breath of the mostly fresh air. The noise of tinkering practically roars over the ambient noise of this place. Whatever the three of them are doing in that ship, they are working at it. I take a moment to look at the view in front of me, until my companion interrupts my thoughts again.

"So, how exactly do you know what we're flying into?" Kelborn asks, the tall armoured Mandalorian moving to stand next to me. "You seem to know what's going on out of your little group, even though you're a rookie."

"I'm not a rookie…" I start to argue. Okay, maybe I am. Sounds demeaning though, I don't like it at all. "And really, it's a long story. A boring, batshit insane one."

Kelborn waves an arm in the direction of the spaceship. "We've got time, unless one of us suddenly develops an aptitude for repairing engines."

I grind my teeth together. "I'd honestly rather not say. I'll think about sharing my story some other time, maybe if we make through this alive, I'll tell you. But really, I don't know a lot more than anyone else here."

"You actually know less," Mission's voice taunts from my left – the general direction of the Mandalorian spaceship. I turn to look, seeing both Mission and the blue Mandalorian… Zuka, I believe his name is. Right, okay. "Don't worry, he's pretty much harmless."

"Yeah, thanks. You were supposed to work on that," I cheekily reply.

Zuka adjusts his blue helmet. "Hell of an uphill battle, but even with such limited parts available, I think we can get out of here once that fragging disruptor field is offline. Otherwise we're just going to crash down here again. We could very well loose more than an engine this time."

"We can take off, but that field is around the Star Forge," Mission clarifies, waving Kelborn and I towards the ship. I take a step inside after Mission and Zuka. Okay, not terribly cramped in here. Two compartments, there's Canderous in the cockpit. This ought to be a fun ride, right?

Once we're all inside, the doors shuts behind us, cutting off the fresh air and everything else that runs around out there. Almost immediately, the hiss of air recycles kick in. It feels a lot like turning on a car and having the air conditioning start up. Another second later, the engine engages, but it isn't easily accessible or out in the open. Instead it must be beneath us, given how much the deck is starting to vibrate. Okay, this isn't going to be the most pleasant of ship experiences after all.

The two Mandalorians move into the cockpit, where Canderous is still pulling wires, it looks like. The cockpit is pretty spacey, but since there's not a whole lot I can do, I think I'm just going to hang back. This back area looks like a troop transport or something along those lines – plenty of seats and room for gear. I take one seat, and Mission takes another right next to me.

"Are you sure about this?" The Twi'lek starts right after sitting down. "I know you said we're going to meet up with them on the station, but…"

I inch closer to her before replying. "Only kind of sure. I mean, we could use the extra firepower, but…" Oh, god. I've got to come clean about this. I adjust my voice to a quieter level, just above a whisper. "There's another reason I wanted to go along with this idea, and it isn't because of battle strategy or firepower or helping out the Republic."

Here we go then, hopefully I'm not getting beaten up for this, too.

"In the game, Darius met up with Bastila at the top of that Temple. If he sides with her, it isn't pretty. I told you that, but I've seen it, where Revan comes back and nearly kills Carth. And in the game."

Fuck, I nearly choke on the words. An alternate choice that I could just casually talk about and picture as video game graphics from 2003 is quite literally piecing itself together in my mind. I can picture it, and I really, really don't want to see it in reality. Reality, whatever that is. I don't even know anymore.

"I've seen an ending where Revan kills you. Because you wouldn't side with him."

Mission just stares at me for a moment before I notice her first clench. Oh, great. "Well… That explains a lot."

"You're cross with me," I observe, inching away from Mission just a little bit. "Sorry, I didn't know how to tell you before now. It isn't like Griff… It's the last secret I've been keeping from you."

"As long as it's the last," Mission frowns, but she puts an arm around my shoulder. "I'll just have to smack you around a bit later. After we get through this, that is. You're off the hook until then."

I put one of my hands atop of Mission's. "You know, I'm not sure if I've had the chance to say thanks to you. For everything. You've been there for me since Taris, and then there's Manaan…"

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you came here, even if it was on accident."

I start to tell her that I feel likewise, then stop. Do I think the same? I really do like Mission, there's no doubt about that. Hell, I love her. Or at least, I think that I do. It's a confusing thing, but if I was held up at gunpoint – yes, that's what I'd say. The crew of the _Ebon Hawk_, they're my friends… I didn't think I would say that about video game characters, and I do feel that bad for lying to them at first.

Exception, HK isn't my friend. He's a ruthless, bloodthirsty murderer. Sure, some of the crew aren't as close to me as Mission or anyone I knew back home… But I'm making a start in a whole new place. It's not like a haven't moved before… I'm off to a decent start so far – who knows what could happen to me after this? Assuming I don't die, that is.

Forced move, I guess. It's not what I would have wanted. But I can live with it. The lack of connection to home is just the part that sucks. I never chose to say goodbye to Sarah, the rest of my friends – or my family.

I can't do anything about that… It's not like I'm going to forget them, but…

"I'm guess glad I got sucked into this reality, too," I finally smile, a mostly honest answer.

"You sure about that?"

Oh, let's not open up that can of worms. "Just thinking about my family. I never got the chance to say goodbye them, and there's no way to talk to them anymore. It's just something I have to live with."

"Maybe there's some way to do that, you never know," Mission reassures me.

"I don't know about that," I shrug; looking out the window that I kind of just realised exists behind me. "Damn, I didn't realise we were in space already."

The view outside is one of a cold empty vacuum of space, with the exception of a sun in the background, no bigger than a coin that someone tacked onto the window. That's where the Star Forge is, isn't it? A moment or two later, it moves to the right of the window and eventually disappearing. Okay, so we're moving around then.

"Any idea when we're getting there?" I ask, fidgeting in my seat.

Mission just sort of knowingly smirks at me. "Do you want me to get up and ask Canderous?"

"As much as I'd hate to say so, yes…" I slowly admit, leaning backwards in my seat, letting Mission keep her arm on my shoulder. I give her a just a moment before I move again, giving the Twi'lek a chance to get up out of her seat – though she's sort of also in my seat. Uh, not that I'm going to complain about that.

I lean back, then realise that I'm smiling, watching Mission head for the cockpit. Okay, time to get up. I push myself and follow her, holding position in the doorframe between the main hold and the cockpit. Mission is practically right next to me. The cockpit, rather neatly, has three seats. Canderous in the middle, Zuka on the left and Kelborn on the right. Mandalorian crew!

"I still wish this was a Basilisk," I mutter, instantly getting the attention of all three Mandalorians. Damn, that was quick.

"In that case, you must be an imbecile," Zuka is the only one of Mandalorians that turns to face me. Or look at me through his helmet in the case of Kelborn. Maybe I should have a helmet to intimidate people when they're looking at me. "A Basilisk is designed for land assault, from space, and they're a pain to maintain. This ship is exactly what they need. Even though it has no weapons..."

"Which is a huge tactical error," Kelborn quickly snaps.

Canderous is the most reasonable out of this bunch, bringing us back on topic. "There's a large fleet of Republic warships not too far from our position. I need to know what sort of IFF signals we're transmitting, unless you're planning on having this bucket be shot down by both the Republic and the Sith."

"That sounds nice," I mutter.

Zuka checks some sort of information on his console. "Our original transponder is still intact, we're registered as a Duros scouting vessel. Those ships are frequently used as ships in the Republic's merchant fleet. It won't be the Republic shooting at us, just the Sith."

"Canderous, there's an Admiral Dodonna attempting to communicate with us," Kelborn adds, "She wants us to bounce a signal to your ship down on the surface. I'm of course skipping all the tech babble about why their ships aren't able to talk to a … Carth Onasi?"

"Get on it," Canderous says, "That disruptor field isn't online anymore, judging by the sensor data we're looking at."

"Not to mention it looks like the Republic ships are moving towards the Star Forge – that's supposed to be surrounded by the field." Mission points out, "Any chance we can listen into that transmission we're relaying?"

"We don't have a hologram system on board, so no," Zuka says, voice practically dripping with a sense of smugness.

Damn it, that would be too easy. Of course we can't just listen in and see what ending Darius picked. I guess we're going to find out really damn soon but it's not like it makes me feel better. At all. See, look, my foot is even tapping the floor with enough energy that I'm likely to put a hefty dent in the deck plate.

The ship shakes for a moment, but at least the engines feel like they haven't exploded or stopped. Good thing too. I move forward a little bit, casually bumping into Mission as I do so. We must be making pretty good speed, I can see a pair of Republic ships moving towards the sun, and the Star Forge resting above it. At the moment, the sun is a lot larger than it was before, so from this distance I can see the Forge, as well as the tether between it and the station. One hell of an incredible sight.

In the distance, I can see Sith warships. Like the _Leviathan_.

And we're getting closer to them, passing by the apparently slower moving Republic warships. I'm going to guess we have some way to tint the cockpit window, cause they always told me when I was young not to look right into the sun…

"Sith's blood!" Zuka spits, madly working at his console. He must be piloting, too, since the ship swerves in response to his commands. When I look back outside, I see exactly why our pilot had that response. The empty space has been rather violently turned into a web of red and green laser fire. Oh, good god.

I'm not looking out the window anymore, I'm already convinced that we're going to die, I'm not watching tis. There, back in my seat…

Okay, I'm just going to lean in my seat here… I lied, I have to look…

Well, we've gotten pretty close! I grab on of the handles that are placed near my seat, which are probably here for exactly that reason. I've got a really bad feeling about this…

A few moments later, a bit of chatter between the Mandalorians, the ship shudders in the most abrupt, violent manner possible. My arm nearly snaps from trying to hold onto this damn handle… Okay, I've got to let go of that before I break another bone in my body. Which, amusingly, never happened to me before I ended up in this reality…

I think I'm staring at the ceiling right now… Okay, that is in fact the ceiling.

I start to push myself back up, grabbing Mission's oustretched hand to get me the rest of the way. Okay, there she is. And Canderous… Zuka and Kelborn. Nobody seems to have died. We're also not in space anymore, by the looks of things. Judging by the rather violent landing we had, I don't think we just glided into this little docking bay. Which could explain why it looks like everything outside is at a slight angle.

Ooks like we made it, then.

"You didn't break anything, did you?" Canderous asks me, the older man grabbing his large blaster rifle. The other two Mandalorians quickly produce their own gear. Okay, I think I've got my own blaster rifle. And the stealth equipment looks intact.

I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be. I can do this. That's what I'm telling myself.

"Not this time," I grunt, following Mission towards the exit of this flying death coffin. "Uh, how do you open this thing, anyway? No offence, but I don't exactly want to be in here anymore."

Canderous walks over, making this part of the ship a bit more cramped, and pretty much punches a button to the right of the door. Okay, door turns into a ramp. Is that just standard engineering in this universe? It makes sense, I guess.

I'm the third to step out, and I just sort of realised there are two heavily armed, deadly Mandalorians that I'm not all that familiar with standing behind me. Don't they say never to turn your back to someone who can shoot you? Who were ready to do so not all that long ago?

Yeah, I still don't feel all that great about this plan. Thanks for asking.

I step outside, into the Star Forge. It's dark, yellow lights keeping it along the same level of illumination as a cave. The floor seems pretty solid, but it's like a metal gangway with plenty of holes in it. The room we're in is immensely large, and I've just noticed that, unlike the _Leviathan_, this place doesn't have decks. We're above other platforms and walkways that I can see from here… Long drop down if you don't fall on one of them.

But the weirdest thing about all of this is just how it feels to be in here. I don't know if I can describe it… It sends shivers down my spine, and the hairs on my arms are sticking up from this. This place feels wrong, and it's like there's an itch in the back of my brain. It feels a lot like Korriban, actually. Is this the dark side I'm sensing? Again?

"Huh," Canderous snorts, clearly looking around our new environment. "You would think there would be a few Sith out here to stop anyone from landing here."

"Yeah, don't say that," I plead, knowing full well what that could mean.

Nobody listens to me, though. I keep my cautious opinions to myself as we move away from the ship and towards the only way to move any deeper into the Star Forge – a rather ominous looking bridge that goes… Somewhere.

Oh, look. And there would be the Sith that Canderous said _aren't_ here. Why does this always happen?

Looks like just a couple… Two of the normal Sith troopers, but they ditched the tin foil for a red version this time. I think that means they're better. And they've got one of the proper Sith with them, equipped with a lightsaber just to top things off. Okay, I don't know how we're going to deal with that. Stupid lightsabers, it's pretty much cheating.

"So much for not having any Sith to greet us," Mission mutters, grabbing her blaster.

I make sure my own weapon moves from its holster to my hand. Safety off, power cell is indeed there. I start to get my usual stance, with my legs parallel and I'm standing up quite straight. Then I remember Kelborn told me back on the Unknown World… Fall back on the Taekwondo instead of just ignoring it. I adjust the way I'm standing, putting my right leg behind me and bending both knees. What we called a back stance… Just not sure what exactly to do with my left arm… Sort of just have it hanging in front of me. Whatever, if someone gets too close, I'll punch them.

Blaster up, I shoot at the red Sith trooper. A few shots hit him first, but he can't seem to hold up under the weapons fire. There we go, one down. One of the ones that aren't a freaking Dark Jedi!

Oh, shit! Here comes the return fire! Let's see, where is that stealth field generator activation button? Right, there it is. Okay, I'm invisible!

I move off to the side, careful of the fact that the Rakatans decided that they should build their marvel of engineering without railings. Seriously, who does that? I move up a bit, so that the enemy is straight on. I make a step, keeping my stance intact… Feels a lot more natural and matches the way that I'm forced to move about in order to keep up the camouflage.

The Dark Jedi goes after Canderous, who responds by smacking his opponent across the face with his blaster rifle. Damn, nice. I move onto targeting the next of the Sith troopers…

Shit! I nearly tripped over this metal floor! And there goes the ruddy stealth field.

I roll to my right, not my left would send me hurtling over the platform and probably to a rather unattractive demise. I've done it before, and rolling is just something I do when I need to be moving really quickly. The end result is generally me planting my ass on the ground or ending up in a heap. Which seems to have just happened. I'm not sure entirely how, but I've ended up nearly prone on the ground.

Once I get a hold on my weapon, I use it against the other Sith solider. Bam, there we go. Thankfully, that stupid combat roll just saved my life and gave me a touch of an advantage.

"There's more where that came from, isn't there?" Kelborn asks, lowering out of his own combat stance, though he's keeping a blaster pistol on the ready. "They're going to be coming in this direction, and in order to meet up with your team, we need to stay here."

"Fantastic," I grumble, getting back on my feet. I maintain my combat readiness, and just put the safety back on the blaster. Don't want a misfire.

Canderous must've faired really well against that Dark Jedi, I don't see any missing limbs. "There's not a chance that they're coming in through this hangar. Whoever built this has to have set it up in an intelligent manner. There should be connections between all of the hangar bays, that's where we're going."

Zuka sounds disapproving. "We should be protecting our ship. If we aren't careful, there's going to be no way out of here. The Republic is going to blowing this place straight to hell, or the Sith are killing us all. Either way, we need a way out. We're staying here."

"Our ship isn't going to fly again," Canderous says, "We're getting out on the _Ebon Hawk_ or not at all. If you've got a problem with that, I'm sure the dark Jedi are willing to listen to your bitching. Let's move."

Canderous and Zuka go first, then Mission and I. Kelborn is last, making sure no Sith take the jump on us. We start going deeper into the Star Forge, and that feeling just gets a touch stronger with every step. I really feel like we don't belong here. It's just rwong.

I do not like this place.

"What do you know about this place?" Mission whispers to me, her eyes darting all over the place in order to see the strange environment that we're in now.

"This place is an ass from what I know. Pouring with Sith. The Rakatans built it as a factory, but it consumed all of them. But right now, we're in for a long ass fight with just about every Sith in this area of space."

"The sooner we meet back up with Darius, the better," Mission says, pulling something out of her trouser pockets, then handing it over to me. What exactly is this? "You might need this. Emergency medical supplies. It'll stop you from going into shock, and make sure your blood clots."

"Thanks?" I slowly take it, pocketing it. "I'll try not to die or anything."

"I'll hold you to that," Mission warns, shaking a blue finger at me. Hey, I don't intend to die. I've managed this much already!

The way in front of us starts to wind and veer off to the left, bringing us into a larger cavernous chamber within this space station. It's not like I've seen a whole lot of places in this vast galaxy, but this place is just so different. Even if I didn't know who built this place, it's obvious that the architecture is like nothing else out here.

Even more strange, though, is that there isn't anyone else out here. This space is empty, each one of our footsteps echoing. Clank, clank. We keeping moving, and I just don't feel great about this… Not just that whole evil, insidious dark side presence that's been bothering me since we landed, but it's almost like…

Someone is watching us.

I turn a full one hundred and eighty degrees, nearly running straight into Kelborn. But aside from him, there's nothing behind us. I just really would have sworn that someone, or something, was just watching us.

Maybe this place is just throwing me off. It must… I turn back around, and nearly run into Mission in the process. Still nothing in front, either. This is just odd.

"We've got incoming," Zuka warns, gesturing quite far down the route that we're going. I look, and I start to argue this point, looking as far into the blackness that I can. Nothing, nothing… Oh, yep. There's something out there alright. It doesn't look all that much like a person. It's a grey hunched over object with a single light. And it's coming towards us quite quickly.

It's a droid. The droids that Malak sends out after the Jedi and other people in the Star Forge. Oh, great. That includes us. And we're on a relatively narrow walkway without railings.

I move off to the left as much as I can, without getting too close to the edge. The droid is moving quite quickly, but I think that one of us should be able to hit it. Probably not me, but it's not going to stop me from trying. I flip the safety back off, and pull the trigger for my blaster. The rest of my little group joins in, but the thing just keeps running at us.

Oh, goodness.

Okay, switching power cells. New one in, I resume firing, and much to my own surprise and pleasure – a blaster shot hits the rampaging machine in its eye… Or whatever it is that sort of looks like an eye. Whatever it is, it must hurt – the thing drops and damn well explodes. Holy damn!

"They're coming in from behind us!" Kelborn shouts, firing a blaster pistol at yet another droid, one that looks basically identical. Where the hell did that come from? I was just looking that way, and the only thing that way is the hangar bay that we were originally in.

This is shit.

I've still got plenty of shots left in this blaster, and I'm using them. I think Zuka and Canderous are going for the ones in the front, I might as well take anything that's coming from the rear. Couple of shots, and the next one is down.

Too bad there's another one behind it.

Looks like this trip on the Star Forge is going to be everything I expected.

"We need to keep moving forward," Canderous shouts over the blaster fire. "Stephen and Kelborn, I need the two of you getting the droids that are coming in behind us."

"Alright!" I holler back, shooting at the second droid that seems to have simply replaced the first. Where are these fuckers coming from?

Here come the waves of infinite enemies. Each one is ready to kill us. Bloody fun, right?

* * *

I lost count a long time ago. I started, but I do believe I lost track back when we were still fighting all those droids. We were barely able to move, and one of those fuckers nearly burned me to death with a flamethrower. HK isn't the only asshat to have one of those, and I would go into quite a rant any other day about why anyone would feel it necessary to have one of those.

Didn't burn me, though, my gold armour isn't exactly golden anymore. Deflected another blaster shot as well. I bet that old shitty armour I picked up on Taris couldn't have held up quite as well. Thank you Darius for the armour, and thanks for the ruddy blaster too. I nearly ran out of ammunition at one point, as many blaster shots I've fired just now… Thankfully, the droids stopped coming all the time, giving us a few Sith troopers to shoot at and steal their ammunition for.

I'm not sure if we've moved more than ten meters, to be one hundred per cent honest. This place is starting to get on my nerves. It all looks the same, feels weird, and even though it feels like we have covered plenty of ground… It looks exactly like the area outside the hangar.

I've had to switch to gripping my blaster with both hands, which are now sore. Hell, my whole body is sore. At one point, Canderous tossed me some sort of shot. Stimulants, I think he said it was. Sure is making my head buzz, a lot like that time I took several twelve hour energies at the same time.

I grip my blaster as tight as I can manage, knowing full well that the damn thing is going to shake like a righteous bastard when I pull the trigger. Just as I would expect, the weapon jumps and flashes. The Sith soldier in front of me drops dead from the shot, his vibroblade clattering against the metal deck before it, along with its owner, fall right off the walkway.

Add another one to my number of kills. I remember back when I first got here from Earth, I was uneasy about killing. Hell, I was ashamed of it, and was guilty for the lives I've taken. I still don't want to do it – but I have to. There's no choice.

Since we started this damn endless battle, I've had to acquire a small vibroblade – like the kinds the Vulkars were quite fond of using in the Lower City on Taris. The Sith are, sadly, found of getting quite close. And in this cramped environment, I've only been able use my stealth capabilities once. I don't know about Mission, but we're really at a disadvantage here.

Okay, my next target … Fuck, a Dark Jedi. Shit!

Stephen, hold the goddamn gun steady you cock!

I get ready to start firing, or maybe I should be reaching for my vibroblade. I've got to try everything against this Sith asshole.

And then my opponent's head explodes in a rather surprising mess. I check the level on my heavy pistol – yeah, I didn't do that. And from what little I saw of the bloke's head before it blew into little pieces, it looked like it was shot from the left…

I look over in that direction. Okay, there's another path. Fighting going on there… Lightsabers of a couple different colours…. And HK-47. I'd recognise the orange droid anywhere, even at this distance.

Oh god, I think that HK saved my life.

I really hate that droid. Now I'm going to hear a long rant that will likely contain the phrase _psychotic meatbag_. Stupid, stupid nickname.

With the Dark Jedi out of the picture, I take a shot at the Sith commando that was backing him up, whilst moving off to my right so that I don't get shot by his blaster rifle. Doing all right…

Damn, the recoil is really starting to shake me up. Why couldn't I have gotten a lighter pistol? My shots don't take the next two blokes out – someone else's does the job for me. Whatever, I don't care. I move to target the next one, muscles going through the same motions I've been forced into for the past hour or so – and there's nothing.

No Dark Jedi, Sith troopers or droids running to try and kill us from this direction. Just the route we came through – which apparently included a rather massive circular door. Now that's peculiar, I haven't seen one of those in here before.

Alright, nothing on the other side either. I think we're finally catching a break. Safety on. Goodness, I almost forgot what it feels like to have my arms at my side…

Still keeping an eye out for any reinforcements, I head towards everyone else – and apparently HK isn't the only member of the crew out here. I think I see Darius and Zaalbar. Well, that doesn't help me figure out if Revan is back or not… Wait, there's Carth and T3 as well. And Jolee… And no Bastila.

Thank god. We're okay. Err, no offence to Bastila or anything.

"Glad you lot didn't run off after all," Darius' familiar voice says, sounding a bit tired. He's ogt the same two lightsabers, no indication that he chose to turn into a psychopath. Another other time, I would have a cheerful quip or greet everyone else… But right now, I can barely breathe. Not quite at the wheezing stage, but I very well could be getting there.

"We brought friends," Mission replies with a slight grin. Damn, she seems a lot more capable in this situation. Though she's clutching her side, a hint of blue fluid around her hand… No, that's her blood! "We're a little bit lost, though. Mind pointing us in the right direction?"

"Are you-." I say, but apparently I don't get the chance before a bugger interrupts me.

And it's HK, of all people. "Observation: Psychotic meatbag, it seems as if I am capable of determining your existence."

"Sod off," I argue, before turning my attention back to Mission. "Seriously, are you-."

"We're not too far from the command deck. That's where we're going to find Malak and Bastila. Nothing else matters but stopping them. We need to move onto the next deck before additional reinforcements show up."

"And how do you know where we're headed?" Zuka says. "I would have sworn we've barely moved."

Darius just stares at the Mandalorian for a moment. "I'm Revan, I've been here before. Do you have any more questions?"

Zuka falls silent at that. Well then. Darius just looks knowingly at him before waving in the direction that his group previously came from.

"I'm okay, by the way," Mission says to me as we're moving out, still grabbing her abdomen. "Just cut up a little bit. Don't worry about it."

"If you say so," I slowly mutter, eying the wound. Doesn't look all that great…

The walkway sort of comes to an intersection… I guess, if you can call it that. We must've cleared this area out, or something. We all head into a lift – which rather quickly descends to another level. I step out with the rest of the group, and it's apparent we've come to a rather different area of the Star Forge. Sure this area is cavernous and empty – mostly. But we're not on metal gangways anymore; instead we actually have a platform that has a decent amount of space.

The centre of this place is a pit, circular and vast – this platform goes around that shape, which is why it's at a bit of a curve. Unlike the other areas of this space station, there are things moving in here. Up and down the abyss, large chunks of metal or Sith fighters – the very same that I could the 'pleasure' of experiencing on Manaan. Damn, this place really is one massive factory, isn't it? Sounds of machinery and everything…

And there's that bloody, sodding feeling again.

There's nothing to our left, just a dead end with a bunch of strange looking blue control panels. The other end, our right – it's got another of those somewhat impractical doors that BioWare is so found of in all their games.

Now that is a big door.

"I still don't like you, by the way," I whisper to HK right as the door opens. "In case you were even remotely worried about that."

I do recognise the area behind the portal, though – and the woman waiting for us, too. It's the control room, complete with that blue hologram of the Star Forge. And that's Bastila. Oh, hello, I haven't seen you since you went all evil. She looks mostly the same, though – except for the black robes and red lightsaber. Always with the red, how original.

"Revan," Bastila greets, her already cold voice even more devoid of emotion than normal. "I knew you'd come for me. And you brought your whole entourage. Even the fool, how useless."

Ha, a fool. Wait… That's me. Hey!

I stop dead in my tracks, as does everyone else. There's quite a few of us, meaning we should be able to overwhelm her. But Darius has that look… I know it. This conflict is his, not one that is going to be determined by sheer numbers. And a good thing, I hear footsteps heading in our direction. Oh, shit. That would be the reinforcements that have come to make our lives hell again. I turn, and… yep. Usual band of enemies. Just … more of them than before. They're not coming in a slow trickle of Sith baddies this time, they realised that it's a better idea to attack with a large force at once. Oh, cock.

"We've got your back," I hear Carth say, presumably to Darius. Once my weapon is ready, I look back – but it's too late. I only see our leader cross the threshold, ready to fight Bastila.

Okay, this is it.

I don't take the first shot, but I rather quickly join in. Muscles still sore and aching, nearly out of ammunition – I'm going to do this. Alright, reloading… Move to the side. You can do this, Stephen. You bloody told Mission you were getting through this!

I drop another Sith trooper before having a shot bounce right off of the armour plating over my chest. Shit, that was too close.

Once I position myself in the right way to empty as much ammunition as possible, I notice that there is a nasty pain in my upper right chest – wee bit lower than my armpit. When I touch it… Oh, shit. That hurts like hell! Let's see what this deal is…

I've been shot. That's what that is.

And with that, the pain hits with enough force that I drop to my knees, barely clutching onto my blaster pistol. Barely holding onto consciousness, I remember the emergency medical supplies that Mission tossed over. I can barely see at this point, but I manage to find the syringe inside, probably loading with a lovely concoction of Kolto and other medical … things.

Syringe, neck. I barely even feel the impact, but I do feel that sensation of fluids being shot straight into my bloodstream..

It does the job alright. I lean back, grabbing the blaster and fire it at the nearest Sith. I am not dying here. Not after being thrown onto a doomed planet with nothing but a BlackBerry and a wallet.

I am not dying five feet from the finish line.

* * *

**Forgive me for the late update, please!**


	29. Chapter 29: Retention

Chapter 29: Retention

"Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

~Winston Churchill

**Author's Note: Author's Notes are primarily at the bottom here. Was going to do a cliff-hanger ending, but I'll just save that content for **_**Displacement in the Old Republic 2**_**. Wait, what?**

* * *

"Do I at least look all right?" I ask, tenderly poking at where my blaster shot injury is located, underneath my now repaired armour. Yep, still hurts. I made it out, but not without some scars, apparently. I'm not entirely sure what exactly happened after we parted wasy with Darius, except that Zaalbar was carrying me at one point.

And damn, Mission isn't kidding about why he needs to comb himself and clean up on a more regular basis.

I keep fiddling with my surprisingly long hair when another figure walks into the image in the mirror. Oh, hello, you.

"You look fine," Mission dismisses, "I swear, you worry about your appearance more than I do. Zaalbar could take a hint from you."

"It's not every day that we're all getting medals from a Republic Admiral," I counter, getting closer to the mirror, checking to make sure I got everything when I shaved. "I'm not running around looking like a hooligan."

The blue figure in the mirror sighs. "You take all the surprise out of things. I didn't know we were getting medals."

"Sorry," I apologise, checking to make sure my armour looks fine. Gone are the blaster impact burns and the tattered cloth. It's all been tidied up in a rather surprising amount of time. Still, I'm glad that they're not making us wear a dress uniform for this. Nope, they're going for the whole 'look at our heroes from the front-lines' look.

Heroes of the Republic, isn't that what they said? Goodness, I'm certainly not a hero. I just tagged along. I don't even know if I even count for a hero by association. I'm the opposite. Well, not really. That would be a villain.

Still, I guess it's nice to get a medal. Assuming that I do, I guess I might be getting ahead of myself…

"Speaking of which," Mission says, "There's something I wanted to talk to you about, since you held up on your promise back on the Star Forge.

"Well, I did get shot," I tease, ignoring the pain in my chest. It's mostly all fixed up, but it's still a bitch. Hopefully it's the last major injury that I'm forced to endure during this whole adventure.

"You big baby," Mission snorts, gently pushing my shoulder. "Do you know how infuriating it is to deal with you sometimes?"

I rub my shoulder, playing along. "Okay, okay. What were you going to say, then?"

Alright, I really don't think that I'm going to look any better than I do right now. I shoot a final glance in the mirror… And I see someone else besides Mission and myself. And I sure as hell recognise her. And there's that feeling I had back on the Star Forge – that I'm being watched. Oh, of all the people I want to see, I do not want to have another visit from Selena.

I turn around… And she's gone. What the hell?

Mission didn't notice, but I guess that makes sense based on what Selena explained to me. "Well, after we got out of the Star Forge, and you were too busy getting medical attention, I was thinking… What exactly are you doing after this?"

I ignore the possible sighting of Selena, at least for now. "I haven't really thought about that, to be honest. I guess I got caught up in all of this. I mean, it's not like I can just go home now."

"Me neither," Mission points out. "Taris is gone, but there's a whole galaxy out here."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Well, it isn't like you know a lot of people around here," the Twi'lek says, "So maybe the two of us can find something together."

"What about Zaalbar?" I ask, remembering that the two of them were close friends before this.

"We actually talked about this while you were asleep. Big Z is going back to Kashyyyk; he'll be Chieftain of that tribe we helped out."

Oh, well… That makes sense. "You don't want to go with him?"

"We were both on Kashyyyk," Mission deadpans. "As much as I love Big Z like a brother, I'm not living in a tree above a forest full of monsters. Taris was enough for me in that regard. There are plenty of other places to be aside from a jungle."

I smile for a moment, thinking about to our adventures on Kashyyyk. Yeah, I really wouldn't to live there, either. "It's not like I've got anyone else to live with," I tease. "Just don't pick anywhere where I'm likely to die. I'm not a terribly big fan of that."

I step a bit closer to Mission, looking right at her eyes. She rather slowly puts her arms around my shoulders. "And maybe we can get you more familiar with how things work, you could do with being a bit less clueless."

"I'll have you know that I wasn't so daft where I'm from," I warn, getting just a bit closer. "Instead, I was only somewhat thick. Sure, I might have lacked common sense at times…"

"This is a pretty big step," Mission points out. "It's not going to make you freak out again, will it?"

"Probably," I say with a healthy dose of sarcasm. Okay, we're pretty close right now. Okay, I think I get what we're going for…

But I guess it isn't time for that. "Statement: Meatbags, if you are going to stop pressing your slimy mucus covered lips together, my master has specifically requested your presence. Immediately."

Fucking HK. I take a few steps back once Mission's arms drop, and turn to face the rather bloodthirsty machine. I swear, he must've been listening and just freaking took the chance to walk in at that moment. Honestly, would it surprise anyone? Because it really doesn't surprise me one bit. Metal bastard.

"It isn't time already is it?" Mission frowns, running a hand over her own light armour to get a crease out of the cloth. "I could have sworn we were meant to be out there in another half hour…"

"Good thing we weren't depending on you," I point out, and then I'm forced to dodge a faux punch to the face. "Alright, alright," I groan before heading out after the assassin droid, who is too busy clanking with every loud step it makes. It's odd, sometimes HK is deathly quiet, and then there are other times where there just isn't any attempt at stealth. Maybe he's just screwing with me.

HK-47, Mission and I all walk out of the _Hawk_, back onto the Unknown World. Unlike last time, though, we haven't crashed into a beach full of rather angry natives. Instead, our ship has been rather interestingly placed in the area surrounding the Temple. I'm going to have to guess the Republic has set up some sort of perimeter… There are wild Rancors and Rakatans out there, it isn't really a safe place out there. But for whatever reason, they're having the celebration here. Couldn't we have waited to get back to civilised space? I'd like to see Coruscant. Or we could go back to Manaan, I liked that quite a bit.

We must have spent quite a bit of time in the Star Forge, plus a couple hours where I was asleep… The sun is right overhead on this planet. At least it isn't terribly hot.

Damn, there's quite a crowd out there, in front of the Temple. Most of them are clad in Republic dress uniforms or battle armour. I can't pin a number on this crowd, probably over five hundred or so. More than my high school graduating class, that's for sure. They're just all talking amongst themselves, barely in any sort of formation. And, look! That stone circle that encompasses the Temple grounds… I do believe that I'm seeing Zuka and Kelborn sitting on it in the back, still wearing their full armour outfits.

I think about waving at them, but they're probably just here waiting for transportation off to wherever… They don't seem like the type to enjoy a Republic awards ceremony.

Dxun! That's where I recognise Kelborn and Zuka!

Alright, that's interesting. I'd like to say there's a chance I could wind up seeing them there, but I really, really don't want to go through another adventure to save the whole bloody galaxy like this again. I don't think that I could survive it. I barely made it through this one.

Besides, I've already got plans for the future. Well, sort of. More than I did when I got here.

I ignore the small crowd, walking quite near the Temple to the front, where the rest of our party seems to be waiting. Okay, T3 and Zaalbar… and Canderous is there as well. Carth is wearing that orange coat that he always wears, and Jolee seems to have chosen a respectable set of robes, as has Darius, he's wearing dark blue. Bastila is here as well, but she isn't wearing the tan outfit I saw plenty of whilst she was still part of the team. Rather, she seems to have elected to continue wearing the dark Sith outfit we all got to see while she was on the Star Forge.

Well, that's interesting. Before we leave this planet, and go goodness knows where, I'd like to talk with her again.

And I just realised she's the only one of the crew that doesn't know the truth about me… Should I tell her? Will someone else tell her? We haven't always been on great terms, we sort of got along after I helped her with her mum… But she's never thought very highly of me. But I'd rather tell her, and not have someone else rat me out… HK, I'm looking at you, buddy.

I'll worry about that after this whole deal.

"Thanks HK… Stephen, glad to see you're alive," Darius mutters as I get closer to the rest of the group. "But I figured you had a … good grasp on what was going on regardless."

Thanks, Revan. Real subtle. And here I was worried about someone saying something to Bastila.

I stand next to Mission, squeezing between her and Canderous – who was right at the end until we showed up. Okay, so now that we're all just standing here in a queue? I'll make sure I'm standing up straight. I'm already out of things to do. I look to see if there's anyone I recognise in the crowd, before I realise that there's of course no way that I would be seeing anyone in there. Everyone I know is either still in another reality, dead, or standing here next to me.

Okay, there might be a few exceptions with the Wookiees. And if anyone survived Dantooine… But as a general statement, that's not all that far from the truth.

While I was busy thinking about that, a couple more people came up to our little area at the front of the crowd. Since I have seen the light side ending before, I do know who these guys are. Well, I've seen a couple of them in reality as well. People I recognise, here I was just thinking about how improbable that would be. The older lady in a uniform, that's Admiral Dodonna… Vandar, who of course looks like Yoda. The puppet one, not the fake one. And there's my least favourite Jedi Master, Vrook… Along with a couple other Jedi that I don't know. Well, they do like to travel in groups, apparently.

"Sorry, but we're going to make this pretty quick. We aren't going to have enough time for all of you." Dodona says, holding small box in her right hand, and proceeds to open it. Inside are quite a few identical medals. She starts with Canderous, handing one over. "Left side."

I take mine when the time comes, straightening my back just a bit more. I flip it over after briefly admiring it. It does look quite nice, but there's no pin! What am I supposed to do with this?

Dumbfounded, I look at Canderous – who has managed to put his own medal on the left side of his armour. He doesn't look particularly pleased, though. Mission has her own on as well. Do I just sort of put it on, then? Okay, yes… Apparently so! I bet I look pretty cool right about now.

Now everyone has one, with the exception of the two droids – they are apparently unloved, and Zaalbar, who seems to be holding onto the medal instead of wearing it. Fine, Zaalbar, go around naked. Nobody cares though, it seems. Admiral Dodona gestures for us to all to turn around… Blimey, that's quite a crowd! How did I miss that? Regardless, they noticed that we're looking at them now. And they start cheering!

I wave at the masses, a bit nervous if I'm being honest. Zaalbar howls, just for kicks, since I'm not getting any translation of any sort. A few moments pass by, the noise dying down. Only a few seconds have passed, but it seems to last a lot longer than that, before we turn back to face the military officer and the few Jedi that are up here with us as well.

Dodona is right in front of Darius, and mostly talking to him. We're just his accomplices after all. "You have defeated Malak, destroyed the Star Forge, and broken the spirit of the Sith. For this, I am proud of present you each with the Cross of Glory, the highest honour the Republic can bestow."

I chuckle under my breath at the sight of Darius standing there, in full military mode, letting Dodona stick a medal on his chest. Lucky him, he doesn't have to figure it out.

"From Coruscant to the Outer Rim, you will be known as saviours of the Republic," Dodona finishes, stepping away from the former Sith Lord.

Okay, a bit more cheering… Now it seems to be Vandar's turn, he rather slowly walks up to next to Dodona, who steps back to let the Jedi do his thing. He really does look a lot like Yoda. That's quite a coincidence, BioWare.

"On behalf of the Jedi Council, I too would like to honour you for your actions," Vandar declares, thankfully, he isn't talking backwards. "We Jedi now have yet another tale to weave into our grand history – the redemption of Revan, the prodigal Knight.

Wherever you go, you will seen as saviours of the galaxy, heroes of our age. You must remain ever vigilant, for you may be once again called to defend the glory of the Republic against the tyranny of the dark side."

* * *

Well, for a few minutes of standing around in front of a crowd, that wasn't all that bad. I hate loads of people like that, but at least I didn't have to talk. In fact, none of us did. After Vandar's little speech, a couple of fighters flew overhead, nearly blew my ears out. Admiral Dodona did mention, after she let the Republic soldiers mill about their business, we were… encouraged to loiter around for a bit. Apparently several people would like to speak with us. I almost asked if they had any drinks or food, but I figured that wasn't really a great idea.

Though I am getting hungry…

I'm still debating with myself over whether or not I want to tell Bastila about my past. The rest of the crew already knows, and I hate lying to her. But at the same time… Ugh, I just don't know.

Well, if I wanted to tell her right now – she disappeared somewhere. As did Darius. Hopefully they're not doing anything… I remember the two not being all that subtle when we were looking for all those Star Maps.

In the span of just a few minutes, the Republic soldiers and officers, as well as the Jedi, have dispersed all over this field. The only person near me from the crew is HK, and I'll be damned if I really want to speak with him at the moment. I'm almost hoping that nobody really wants to speak with me. That whole speech about how we're heroes, nobody needs to see me in that way. Nobody talk to me!

"Corproal ******?"

Oh, for fuck's sake! At least get my rank correct, would you! I quickly hide my irritation, and turn around to find the owner of the voice, who apparently would like to speak with me. It can't be anyone important, right?

No, it's Admiral Dodona. Whatever it is, I'm sure that I didn't do it…

"Admiral," I snap to attention, and try my best to remember how to salute properly. It was the right hand, wasn't it?

She laughs, though, before returning the salute. "At ease, Private. There's no need to salute when I've already dismissed everyone."

Oh. Well nobody told me that. "Sorry, ma'am," I say, relaxing my back. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Not to be rude, but being under such scrutiny from an Admiral makes me a bit uneasy. Especially consider the nature of how I was … conscripted into the military. There's also the chance that while I was recovering, someone could have mentioned my origins to her. I don't see that as very likely, but it's not like everything has gone the way I've wanted.

"After we destroyed the Star Forge, I wanted to debrief you, Captain Onasi and Lieutenant Rayner. I was told you were recovering from an injury, and were unable to attend."

"That's accurate," I confirm, "Do you have any questions for me, or…?"

Dodona shakes her head. "Both Carth and Revan answered all of my questions, and provided after-action reports. You don't need to provide one, don't fret. They each had a section about you – a rather interesting read."

I bite my tongue with enough force that I'm concerned it's going to be damaged. However, I don't say anything, and my superior officer continues. "You don't need to look quite so concerned. Captain Onasi's and Lieutenant Rayner's fit-reps for you were honest, particularly about your…"

"Lack of abilities," I finish, slightly dejected.

Dodona nods. "Still, Carth's reports gave you a fairly positive review. Now, Lieutenant Rayner's resignation letter mentioned you as well. One of his last orders was a battle-field promotion for you to Corporal, and he would like you to have the option to resign from military service."

Wait, what? I actually got a positive review? That alone has me pretty much dumbfounded! But hey, that does explain why she called me Corporal, instead of Private. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but did you say that I'm allowed to leave?"

"We've struck a huge blow against the Sith, we need to start mustering soldiers out of the service," she explains, "Since you have yet to undergo actual training, and given the circumstances in which you joined the service, the Lieutenant wanted you to have a choice."

Well, damn.

"Is there any chance I can think about it?" I ask, gnawing on my bottom lip. "It's been kind of a rough day, and I don't want to commit to anything without thinking about it first."

"Of course," Admiral Dodona answers, "Just give Rayner your answer, he'll handle the paperwork required either way. That's all, Corporal. Dismissed."

Once she turns her back on me, I let out a massive sigh. Well, that went quite a bit better than I thought it would! I'm still pretty shocked that Carth and Darius had something nice to say about me in operations reports. And I get the choice to stay in the military? It's a job, and I guess I need to start worrying about that… No war going on anymore, so maybe I wouldn't have to do combat. I'm not sure it's right for me, though.

That being said, I don't really have a whole lot of skills. This could be a good foundation for my new life.

Huh, with the events of the game over – and no feasible way home, I guess I need to start figuring out what to do with my life now. I never thought I would make it this far, survive all the battles. Hell, I remember planning on leaving the group on Dantooine. I haven't got a bloody clue what to do with myself! Why didn't I think about any of this before?

Caught up in my thoughts, I start to head through the crowd, seeing if I can find anyone I know in here. Which is somewhat limited to the crew. As long as it isn't HK, I'll be happy and I'll also feel like less of an anti-social prick who doesn't know anyone here. I've never hated parties, but I've always known more than a few people at them. This is quite a bit different.

I wade through everyone, aiming for the outer areas of the Temple clearing. Maybe there, I won't exactly be surrounded and stuck in this swarm of people. It really isn't the most pleasant experience. Better than being shot, though.

"Oh, hey, Carth!" I wave at the Republic Captain, seeing him not all that far from me in the crowd. It's that orange jacket, mate, it really gives you away. I hope he isn't talking to anyone, but I did just see someone walk away from Carth. Well, screw them. "I heard you put in a rather good word for me."

"You spoke with Admiral Dodona then, I take it," Carth says, "I thought she would have told you I gave an… honest evaluation."

"Considering you pointed a gun at me on Taris, and I've gotten injured nearly ever mission, I'll take what I can get," I grin, "And look, we all got medals. So I didn't do that badly, right?"

Carth blinks. "If you want to think that. It's not like Darius or I put everything in those reports."

"Thank goodness for that," I sigh. "Well, it sounds like we're not going to be here too much longer. So where are we going next?"

"You don't know?" Carth raises an eyebrow.

I nod. "This is where my knowledge of the game ends," I explain, frowning. It's a very strange feeling, to have a sort of weird precognition and then having it vanish. I mean, I know what's going to happen in KotOR 2… The Jedi are going to get fucked up in the meantime… I wonder if there's anything I can do about that. But I'd rather not get into the events of KotOR 2, the half-finished game, and even if _somehow_ managed to have that absurdity happen, that's five years away.

"Well, I think Darius said something about dropping Zaalbar off before we get back to Coruscant, but I think that's where we part ways. Dodona offered me a command."

"Oh, yeah, I do remember that," I say, speaking of the second KotOR game. I forgot that Carth was in that… Oops. "You're going to take it, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure," Carth admits, "A lot of guys are mustering out, but I don't have a whole lot to go back to. Dustil is a grown man now. I'm not saying I won't see him again, but he's going to have a life of his own."

Makes sense. I guess when KotOR 2 shit rolls around, maybe some things won't be the same. Not saying this will be one, but who knows what impact I've had… Or what little things could be different in this reality compared to the game. There have been some things, like the Rancor or a lack of Czerka on Tatooine… Who knows what's up with that!

"I've got a feeling I know what you'll pick," I say, "Best of luck with Dustil. I don't know, but from what I've seen, that wasn't a great reunion back on Korriban."

"Not really, but I think we'll manage. What are you doing, though? I'm not an expert in your situation, but didn't you say you can't go back?"

"Yep," I confirm, "Mission said something about living with her, and I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to stay in the military or not..."

"If you do, I might be able to get you a decent position. No guarantees of course."

"I'll think about it," I reply, and then I notice that Carth has a hand open and outstretched in my direction. "It's been quite a fun ride, Carth," I smile, shaking his hand.

"Likewise," I hear Carth say. "I've got a few officers that want to hear from me, I'll let you continue milling about aimlessly."

Yeah, real funny. I nod, letting him go off to speak to whomever it is he really wants to talk to. Can't be as cool as me, though. I think. Ah well, I guess that just means I'm going to have to find someone else to speak with… Oh, look. There's an orange assassin droid and a silver astromech over there. Huh, I think I'll try somewhere else.

Off in another little corner, I think I'm looking at a trio of Mandalorians. Hey, I like them, even if they're a little bit cross with everything. I walk over to Canderous, who is sort of standing next to Zuka and Kelborn, and those two, they're still sitting on rocks.

"You look proud of yourself," Zuka notes, not getting up from his white stone that is apparently a rather good stand in for a seat. Well, if that's the case – I take a rock for myself, a reasonable distance from the two Mandalorians that are also sitting out here. "I'm surprised they gave you anything. And why didn't we get a medal?"

"Because you just complain," Canderous informs the younger Mandalorian. "Besides, the Republic isn't in the habit of giving Mandalorians medals of any sort."

"They gave you one," Zuka points out.

Canderous snorts. "Only because I happened to have tagged along with these people for a few months. You ought to watch your mouth, or I'm going to leave you here."

Heh. "Wait, you're dragging them with us?" I ask, a little bit confused, and then it hits me. Oh, right. We sort of crashed their ship into the Star Forge, which has in turn fallen right into the sun. "What I mean is-."

"Since we had to wreck our ship, we're hitching a ride back to Coruscant," Zuka groans. "We get a free pass this time."

"Coruscant, pretty big place," I say. I've always liked big cities, so maybe it'll be an interesting place. Though, I do believe back on Taris that I said I was actually from Coruscant – someone said they have accents similar to mine, I think. "Are you going back into mercenary work, I take it?"

"For the moment," Canderous answers. "With a pair of accomplices. I'm going to keep an eye out for any of my people. If there are enough of us that aren't dead, I don't think that I'm going to sit by and let my people go extinct."

"Too late," Zuka says. "What little of us are left are glorified mercenaries."

"Except you, you're a useless technician," Kelborn butts in. "You can't even do the mercenary role to save your life."

"Are Mandalorians in danger of going extinct?" I frown, unaware that there was a danger of this. Besides, I thought that people could go and become Mandalorians, they aren't a species.

Canderous shrugs. "I'm not sure. The problem is that we're too busy fighting each other and running errands instead of running a Mandalorian society. Remember Jagi?"

Oh, don't worry. I do remember him, since he nearly killed me on Dantooine. I start to make a comment about how Dxun would make a pretty interesting place for a base when I see someone that I would quite like to talk to. Bastila. Still not sure about what I'd like to say to her, but I would at least like to say something before we head off to Coruscant and we all go our separate ways.

Alright, wrap it up, Stephen. "Canderous, to the best of knowledge, you're the best person for that task. Regardless of what the Republic thinks." Hopefully he gets what I'm talking about. I don't want to be painfully obvious in front of Zuka and Kelborn, so that'll have to suffice. I'll just talk to him in private about the _Ebon Hawk_. "Excuse me."

I head a few feet towards the Jedi, temporarily parting ways with the Mandalorians. Bastila seems a bit preoccupied, looking away from the Temple and the crowds that are out here. Well, I'm guessing she looks preoccupied – since her face isn't visible to me at the moment. But hey, I've seen enough stuff to know that if you're not talking to people at a celebration, looking at the ocean, you're preoccupied.

"Stephen," Bastila's voice says, but she doesn't turn around.

Damn! How did she know it was me? That sort of sense is uncanny, unnerving, and just sort makes me pissed off. Regardless, I stand next to Bastila on her left side, looking at the same view that she is – that of an ocean, as well as several crashed ships that are visible from here. It's the Unknown World, so of course there are plenty of wrecks within viewing distance.

"How did you know it was me?" I ask, though I'm only mildly curious. I don't want this conversation to get awkward so let's get it rolling already.

Annoyingly, she's still checking out the view. "You, Jolee and Revan are the only ones that probe everyone for answers on a regular basis. Since I heard you talking with the Mandalorians, it was fairly obvious."

"Oh," I mutter. "I guess that one was fairly obvious."

"Knowing you, I am going to assume you want to talk about what happened between the _Leviathan_ and the Star Forge."

"Sort of," I shrug. "Last time I saw you we had just deal with your mum on Tatooine. I just wanted to catch up, if you don't mind..."

"There isn't a whole lot to tell," Bastila coldly replies. "You helped Revan find the last Star Map – and you are more than aware of which side I was assisting."

"Yeah, I know," I say. "Okay, maybe that's the best topic to cover. Sorry about that."

Well, so much for this not being all that awkward…

The Jedi, former Sith, whatever, finally turns to face me. Okay, she doesn't look all that different from when she was last part of the _Hawk_'s crew. Eyes are a bit more bloodshot, perhaps. But I don't really see any major differences… "Back on Dantooine – right after Taris' destruction, I asked Revan to remove you from our crew. I tried to fight his decision after we found the first Star Map."

Well, bitch! I can't believe that. Actually, I can believe that. If I were in her position, would I do differently? I'd try not to be as stuck up as Bastila usually is, but in all fairness – I was even more useless back then than I am right now.

"After you spoke to the Jedi Council, I pushed for you to be dismissed from the Republic Navy. I rescinded that request after Tatooine, before we were intercepted by the _Leviathan_. Not that it mattered, since Revan wanted you to stay," Bastila finishes, and as always her Jennifer Hale voice reminds me quite a bit of Naomi Hunter, before she lost her accent in MGS4. What the hell was with that, anyway?

Well, that's interesting nonetheless. "Why are you telling me that, aside from the obvious fact you want to take another shot at my self-esteem?"

"I truly am surprised that you lasted this long. Since you did, and apparently proven yourself as a member of the crew… Given what happened to me after the _Leviathan_, I felt it necessary to come clean with you. Rather than fight and descend to your level."

I bite my lip ever so slightly. "Uh, thanks, I guess. For what it's worth, I didn't really like you back then either. I know we got along a bit better after Tatooine, but I guess I shouldn't have acted like a child before then…"

"Probably not," Bastila says, "But you haven't exactly proven yourself as the most emotionally mature individual."

I sort of shuffle my feet awkwardly, then realise that she's making a bit of joke. Yeah, yeah. I chuckle once I realise that. I shoot a glance in direction that I came. Everything looks pretty normal. Well, except for the fact that someone else is on their way here. Darius, Revan, whatever his name is right now. Everyone keeps using different nouns… I'll stick with Darius, Revan is an evil Sith Lord. Darius Rayner is the man that I met on Taris, who vouched for me and I could depend on in this crazy place.

"Looks like we've got a bit of company," I tell Bastila, briefly waving to Darius with two fingers. "Real quick – why are you still wearing those?"

Bastila doesn't answer, and briefly looks back at the horizon. Yeah, I didn't think I was going to get an answer, but it didn't hurt to ask… She hasn't changed a whole lot, at least in regards to speaking with me.

"I wouldn't have thought you two would be talking together. I was under the impression that you both despised each other," Darius laughs, stepping between the two of us. I take a step back, in order to give us some more adequate space.

"Don't worry, it wasn't anything important," I say, sighing. "What do you need, mate?"

Darius puts a hand on Bastila's back, and I notice that she squirms away. Is that a hint of embarrassment? Or annoyance? I can't really tell… Knowing these two, it could be either one. "I was looking for Bastila. Mind if I borrow her?"

"Sure!" I raise my hands, mocking offence.

I walk away, hands in my pockets for a few moments before I look back. Already, Bastila and Darius seem to be a pretty intense conversation, and they're kind of close right now. Well, good for them, I guess. I didn't get the chance to tell Bastila about the truth, but you know what? I think that's probably for the better. Out of everyone, I think she and I haven't gotten along all that well. I feel a little offended that she tried to get rid of me, but she hasn't threatened to murder me!

Let's see, who else could I speak with? Aside from HK, that is. Speaking of murderous people.

That's quite a view out there, though.

"She isn't the only one that's a bit surprised you made it through this alive, you know."

Oh, fuck you! I do not want to hear your voice, or see you again. I don't even want to think about you, but knowing how haywire my thoughts can be at times, that hasn't really worked all that well. Of course, not thinking about the woman that told me how I got here, and might even be responsible for it. Damn Selena.

And fuck, she's standing right next to me. Long hair, but kept out of the way – military style. Unlike last time, when she was wearing some sort of civilian outfit, it looks like a uniform. One that I don't recognise, but the point remains.

"You're too close to everyone else; they're only going to hear you talking. Unless you want to look like you're talking with yourself, move a considerable distance away from this social gathering you're a part of."

"Well, hello again," I mutter. She doesn't sound like she's in a particularly great mood. Back on Tatooine, I thought she sounded pretty nice. Her voice now, it's really harsh – the same tone that I heard when I nearly passed out on Korriban. There aren't a whole lot of places to go, so I aim for the path that leads to the beach. Once I'm a sufficient distance away from the Temple clearing, I stop rather abruptly. "So… This is the part where you tell me what the hell you're up to, right?"

Selena isn't really here, which is painfully obvious with how she sort of walks through a rock in order to stand in front of me. "My assistants speculate that you overheard some information on our end a few days ago. I'd be forced to agree with that assessment, judging by your revised attitude."

"Yes, well," I cross my arms. "It didn't sound like you were just monitoring me because I accidentally got here."

Selena takes a rather long moment to answer that, clearly consulting some computer that I can't see here. "Alright, fair enough… No, you aren't here entirely by accident. Since you've fulfilled your usefulness…. I work for a very powerful organisation. We're at war, but not in one dimension or time period. The universe is filled with alternate realities, like this one."

"That just happens to be a video game that I played," I frown. "That seems to be quite a coincidence."

"There are quite a few realities, but they're somewhat difficult to detect at times. But that isn't important," Selena brushes over the concept like its elementary science… But it's something that stumps me. "My employers have numerous enemies, across quite a few universes. Think of it like the Cold War from your own history. One of our techniques to subtly influence realities like this one for own purposes."

My head is hurting already. I pace for a bit before I move to ask a question, "Wait, I'm here because it'll somehow change things to help you out? Did I flip someone off so that he'd eventually join your side?"

"Don't be an idiot," Selena dismisses, "I wasn't lying when I said that you were displaced on accident - through a naturally occurring phenomenon. My people found out about it almost two decades ago. It isn't easy to duplicate, the science behind it is astronomically complicated. We have the equipment to trigger the phenomenon, and narrow the possible locations down from anywhere on Earth to about two hundred and fifty possibilites."

Assuming I'm grasping this correctly, it still isn't making a whole lot of sense. "How do you manage that?"

"Time travelling is easy, and it allowed us to set up the necessary equipment in your home. When we found out we needed to upset the balance in this place…" Selena gestures at the planet that I'm currently standing on. "My superiors had me scan your time-zone, and produce a list of two hundred and fifty individuals that possess knowledge about the contents of this reality."

"You should have put more capable people on your list," I frown, thinking about how much better a trained soldier could have been in my situation.

Selena shakes her head. "That's not how this works. We pick people like you, people we know won't be missed, who are capable completing the task at hand. Nothing more. You weren't even the first on the list, you were number sixty seven."

"So losing my family and friends, that was all for your own purposes?" I spit. People who wouldn't be missed. What does that mean? Sure, I doubt I would have become president, or CEO of a corporation. But that I wouldn't be missed?

"We gave you a new life," Selena points out. "You've done what we needed from you, and you're free to do whatever you please."

I am not being missed? After the initial morning period, that is what my existence amounted to? And that I wouldn't have ever done anything all that important?

"And what exactly did ruining my life accomplish for you?" I nearly shout, then realise I probably shouldn't do that where someone could hear me. Fuck! "Get you some more fleets or armies? I'm so glad I could help!"

Selena rolls her eyes, casually striding through another rock. "I've given you plenty of information, but that's the tip of the iceberg. Your purpose here is classified, and unless something goes horribly wrong, my employers won't need your assistance again."

"Glad I could help," I snap. "And I don't care if you or your employers need help. Thanks to you, I'm stuck here. And I'm going to make the most of it."

I start to march back towards the celebration, force Selena to get the hell out of my head, when she asks a question that sends shivers down my spine.

"If we could send you back, would you accept it?"

Assuming they can…? But if they staged this, is it possible they could do so? For such a long time I've wanted to go back…

"Even if you could send me back? No," I finally reply, "I'm here to stay."

Yeah, piss off. If I ever hear from you again, it'll be way, way too soon. I carry through with what I was planning earlier and head back into the fray of surprisingly happy people, thinking about Selena's words the whole way there. I don't even know if that was the truth, but it's the best answer that I currently have as to why my life flipped upside down. All for some group and their plans. But, I'm the one that has to life with it. I've survived this long, and I've got plenty of life left, I hope.

It honestly feels like years since I was back home. Since I last saw the people I knew there. I know I'm never going to talk to them, and for what? Nothing, to the best of my knowledge.

But hey, I'm going to make it work. Roll with the punches, deal with the hand that is given to you. Those stupid phrases, how relevant they are.

I step back into the clearing, looking for one of the few people with blue skin. Come on, where are you? Amusingly, I think I found HK again, but apparently I can't find the person I'm actually looking for. Odd how that always seems to work out.

"Mission," I smile, finally finding the person I'm looking for.

I'll admit it, seeing Mission turn to face me with a bit of a smile – damn. "Goodness, I thought you ran off or something. Did you forget that there are several dozen angry natives out there?"

"I'll tell you about it later," I say, feeling a bit of my concerns slipping away. Yeah, screw Selena, I'll figure out how to make this work. "But thanks for your concern."

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," Mission teases. "Goodness knows what you'd get into otherwise."

"We'll just have to find out."

You know, I can live with what's happened to me. There isn't just a whole world that's open to me, there's a whole universe. No matter what could have been back on Earth, Selena got something right, I do have a second chance with my life. This adventure through KotOR was just the beginning. Let's see where life takes me from here.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, this is it, isn't it? 29 chapters and over 250,000 words later, this is the end. What started off as a silly little project that was stuck in head has turned into a rather big project in my life. I really can't believe how many reviews and readers I've gotten. I remember back with the first few chapters I thought that I would only get a few reviews, maybe fifty at most. Getting over four hundred? **

**I love you guys!**

**I haven't been the best writer, mostly those damn breaks because of school and other complications. But I'm going to try and not do that again. **

**As I have said before, I am doing a second **_**Displacement in the Old Republic**_** story. Originally, I was only going to go through the first game… But since I've gotten a surprising number of readers, and plenty of ideas for the second KotOR game… Hell yes I'm doing it. I might have already gotten started on the first chapter… It's going to be up in just a few days. So either check back in a little bit, or simply follow me! **

**Again, thanks to everyone who has read this story, and everyone who has left a review. You guys are awesome. Oh, and a special thanks to Herr Wozzeck for getting me on my feet with this and for the shout out in **_**Mass Vexations**_**.**

**If you haven't left a review before, please do. If you have, why not review this chapter as well?**

**Until **_**Displacement in the Old Republic 2**_**, readers! It's been an awesome ride.**


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